We Are XRays Of Something Broken
by absolutely-enraptured
Summary: Screw Granger and her ability to penetrate his mind. To parade past his subdued defenses, to force herself into his dreams, to tease him and steal whatever semblance of normality was left in his life. She had taken hold of what should rightfully be his.
1. An introduction

"This is absolutely ridiculous." Ginny said, barely suppressed anger lacing her voice as she slammed the sheet of paper down onto the bedside table. Hermione was spending summer at the Weasley house along with Harry.

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading and slammed it shut. "What's wrong?"

"Listen to this," Ginny moved to stand in front of where Hermione was perched on her bed. "_Due to some post-war issues, the ministry has decided that it's best that they pair up and bind certain wizards together through marriage. We hope that it will repair relationships between these wizards, and for that reason we have selected your partner for you. You will receive the letter containing who you have been matched with within a few days._

_Hoping you are well,_

_The Head of the Department of Marital Affairs."_

"That's absurd! They simply can't do that, they just can't." Her book was forgotten as she sprung to her feet, her mind whirling at who she could be paired with.

_Ron_, she though hastily,_ they have to pair me with him, I mean who else could I get?_

"Hang on, how long ago did you get that letter, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Must of been a few days ago, I just didn't bother to open it, why?" Ginny questioned, trying to catch onto Hermione's train of thought.

"The letter said that we'll find out who we've been paired with in a couple days, Ginny, you don't think—"

"You think we'll find out today?" She bolted to her bedroom door, and leaned over the railing and opened her mouth to call out to Ron but his voice interrupted her.

"Ginny, Hermione! The mail's here!"

Hermione exchanged a worried look with Ginny and they both sped down the staircase and flung themselves toward Ron who was holding the letters in his hand. Too startled to move out of the way, Ginny snatched the letters out of his hands and handed them out to the appropriate people. Silence fell upon the room as they all tore open the envelopes and pulled out their letters.

"Alright, who's going to announce their spouse first?" Ginny smiled, looking around.

"By the look on your face, I reckon you got someone good." Ron commented, and glanced over at Harry who was looking at his letter in some relief.

Hermione, on the other hand, had yet to look at her letter, she had it in a tightened fist, waiting to hear the others future spouses before finding out her own.

"I got Harry!" Ginny beamed as Harry walked over to her side and proudly curled an arm around her waist.

"Well, that's lucky. I got..." Ron's voice drowned out and he looked away. "Er, never mind."

"Come on, Ron, just say it." Hermione urged him, silently hoping that it was her.

"Pansy Parkinson."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed.

"You must've gotten the wrong letter." Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"No, it says 'To Ronald Bilius Weasley.'" Ron groaned.

"They can't pair you with a Slytherin, that's completely unacceptable." Hermione snapped, attempting to hold back the jealousy that would otherwise tinge her voice.

"I think that's exactly what they're doing, 'Mione. They're pairing unalike people together, Slytherins and Gryffindors, muggle-borns with purebloods."

"I'm sure it'll work out fine, er, somehow." Harry reassured him, but with little success.

Ginny nodded at her brother, knowing that it was a lie. Everyone knew that Pansy was a spoiled, unappreciative, rude, muggle-hating Slytherin who was often seen hanging around with the likes of Draco Malfoy. "Well, how about you Hermione? Who'd you get stuck with?"

With hesitant hands, Hermione opened her letter and scanned over the paragraph of writing before her eyes came to rest on a name. Eleven tiny letters that had etched themselves into her memory, she found herself looking past her friends in front of her eyes and at something that wasn't there, a mental image of all the times he had insulted her and her friends. And now she would have to marry him and-

"Hermione?" Harry's voice broke her out of her reverie.

Slowly, she shook her head. "There must be a mistake."

"Why? Who'd you get?" Ron tried to peak at the folded over paper, but she crumpled it up in her hand.

"It's not possible, it doesn't matter."

"C'mon, it can't be as bad as Pansy." Ginny chuckled but Hermione remained silent.

"Go on then, tell us!" Harry insisted.

"Well, if you must know...I...was paired with," Hermione let out a sigh. "Draco Malfoy."

"What?" roared Ron, his eyes widening, and Harry looked equally horrified. "We're going down to the Ministry to complain. That's bloody ridiculous, they owe us, we saved their lives—"

"Hello, everyone," A wistful voice interrupted, and all of their heads snapped toward the door to find none other than Luna Lovegood standing there. "I can tell this is a bad time. I just thought I'd stop by to see if you found out who you're paired with, but if you're busy I'll go."

"No, Luna, it's alright." Ron sighed, leaning back against the wall. "We were just finding out who we got paired with for the whole new marriage law."

"Well, I'm proud to announce that I've been paired up with Neville. Padma and Parvati got Dean and Seamus, and they're quite excited about that."

"Why is it that everyone's got good partners except Hermione and I?" Ron complained.

"Well, Lavender Brown got Blaise Zabini if it's any consolation." Luna told him and he shrugged.

"Look on the bright side, Hermione, Draco's attractive." Ginny smiled as she dropped a wink at Hermione who looked horrified.

"He's vile."

"Well, I hear that he's quite impressive, you know, his-"

"Yeah, okay, Gin, we get it." Ron said, cutting her off. "Doesn't change the fact that he's a git. Maybe we can trick our way out of these marriages." He added as a hopeful afterthought.

"The Ministry of Magic has also announced that if we do not go through with this they can take away our magic." Luna announced.

"That's horrid, they've really done it this time." Harry frowned.

"There goes your plan on confronting the ministry about this, Ron." Ginny said to her brother.

Hermione sank slowly into a kitchen chair and rested her head in her hands, she had to marry Draco Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Draco was pacing back and forth anxiously, he had been spending a few nights over at Blaise's house when he heard the news that he would have to get married. Pansy had been ecstatic, convinced that she would be paired with Draco and quite honestly, it annoyed the hell out of him.<p>

"Draco, the letters are here!" Blaise called for him from somewhere in the house. Following the sound of his voice, Draco found him and noticed the three envelopes in his hand. Blaise handed Draco and Pansy their papers and everyone tore them open with hasty fingers.

Skimming through her letter, Pansy let out a half-frustrated half-horrified cry. "There's no way in fuck I'm marrying Weasley. And you know how I feel about gingers..."

"You got a Gryffindor too? What the hell is wrong with the ministry? I mean seriously, I got Lavender Brown." Blaise groaned.

Draco was tuning both of his friends out by this point, re-reading the letter and checking to make sure that he was in fact the person that was meant to receive this letter. The name that was at the bottom of the letter had to be a mistake on the Ministry's end, right? It just wasn't possible.

"What about you, Draco?" Pansy asked, her lower lip jutted out in what Draco thought was a poor excuse for a pout.

"I got Granger." He hissed out between clenched teeth.

"Wait, as in Hermione Granger? The muggle-born?" Blaise questioned, shocked.

"Unfortunately yes, I got the mudblood." He snarled, tossing the parchment away from himself and storming out of the room. How could he, a pureblood Slytherin, be paired with a Gryffindor mudblood?

Sinking down onto the couch in Blaise's living room, he ran a hand through his ice-blonde hair and leaned back. There was no way he could marry her, for someone with blood as dirty as hers to taint the Malfoy name was a disgrace.

"Draco?"

He could hear Pansy calling him as she drew nearer to the room he was sitting in and he sank down lower on the couch. Fuck, she could be really annoying sometimes and he did not want to deal with her right now.

"Draco?" The whine in Pansy's voice was grating on his ears as she called out his name again. "There you are." She huffed as she sat next to him, looping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, he had to suppress the urge to shove her away. "I cannot believe I have to marry Weasley and you have to marry Granger."

"At least you got a pureblood, even if he is a blood-traitor, I have a mudblood. If the Ministry thinks I'm going to have half-blood children—"

"It'll be okay, Draco, the Ministry of Magic can't keep this up for long." Pansy leaned over and pressed a kiss to Draco's mouth. He barely returned it, his lips just barely grazing hers and then he stood up and turned to leave the room.

"I hope you're right." He muttered to her before leaving the room.

**A/N**: **_I hope you enjoyed it, please review :) I know there are a lot of marriage law fics but I thought I'd try it. I changed it a bit from Deathly Hallows and resurrected a few characters such as Fred._**


	2. The Meeting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I only like to make the characters into puppets on my strings**

"Harry, Ron, Gin! I'm going out!" Hermione called to them as she opened the front door of the Weasley's house.

"Where to?" Ginny asked, causing Hermione to jump as she stepped up behind her.

"Just to get a butter beer." She shrugged, failing to mention that she was going out to get a butter beer _and _meet with Malfoy. She had sent him a letter asking him to meet her The Three Broomsticks to discuss the arranged marriage. She had also informed him that she had received a letter from the Ministry stating what they required from this marriage.

"Can I come with you?" Ginny questioned. "I could really use—"

"Not this time, please, Gin. I just need to go out there and clear my head about all this marriage stuff." She smiled softly.

The red-head shrugged. "Alright."

With an appreciate smile directed at Ginny, Hermione turned and left. Upon entering The Three Broomsticks, she found herself hating that the place was so empty. In the past when she came here, it would be, on occasion, quiet and that made it a nice place for her to study. But right now, the last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts. The quiet numbness of the room seemed to cause her thoughts to ramble on and on as she sat down and ordered her butter beer.

She would have to marry a mudblood-hating, selfish, arrogant prick, and it was unbearable. Still, things had changed since the war, maybe he had changed. Hermione shifted uncomfortably as she waited, sipping her butter beer. She tapped her foot lightly as she waited, her eyes set on the doorway. Maybe he wouldn't come, he hated her after all, why would he show up?

Just when she decided that he wasn't coming, he emerged through the set of double doors. His pale blonde hair was about the same as it was the last time she'd seen him, but it wasn't slicked back at all, his gray eyes were calm and a bit annoyed as he walked over to her and his black shirt was neatly tucked into a pair of black pants.

He silently sat down in front of her, a sour look on his face, not ordering anything, just sitting there ignoring her.

"Malfoy...we're going to have to talk at some point." Hermione sighed, cupping her butter beer with both hands.

"Not if I can help it." He snarled, casting an angry look at her.

"Well, like it or not we can't change what's already been done. Perhaps if we're lucky they'll repeal this marriage law and we can get a divorce." Hermione shot back.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy gestured to the letter sitting beside her drink. "Well, what's that letter say anyway?"

"I dunno, I haven't opened it yet," Hermione peeled open the envelope and plucked out the parchment from inside. Opening it, she began to read. "It says that..." Hermione bit her lip nervously, not wanting to meet Draco's eyes so she kept her gaze trained on the sheet of paper. "We must consummate our marriage on the Wedding Night. In addition, it requires us to have regular intercourse, without the use of contraception, magical or muggle, and within two years we must produce a child. If miscarriage, stillbirth or any other complications arise you will be given more time. Also, the Ministry will be providing us with an apartment."

"They want us to...have children together? And live together?" Draco spat, his voice clearly showing his disgust.

"Look, I'm not particularly thrilled about this either but the rules are quite strict and if we break them there will be consequences."

"Whatever. But there is no way I want to fuck a mud—"

"You know what, Malfoy, I'm sick of this! I could be sitting here lecturing you about your past with the Death Eaters and call you a coward for not choosing our side but I don't. I can't change the past with my words and neither can you, and you calling me a mudblood doesn't change the fact that I am what I am." Without waiting for him to say anything, she got to her feet angrily and stormed out of the pub.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Draco Lucius Malfoy,<em>

_ The Ministry of Magic has prepared your home with Miss Hermione Jean Granger, we'll mail you the address as soon as possible. Your wedding date can be selected from these days "August 5th—August 19th". Please consult your chosen fiancee about this and then send us the date._

_Awaiting your owl,_

_The Head of the Department of Marital Affairs_

"Why do they always put that?" asked Blaise, who'd been reading the note over Draco's shoulder.

"Put what?" He questioned.

"'_The Head of the Department of Marital Affairs' _never a real name." Blaise told him as he swung himself down into the chair next to Draco.

"If you were the one in charge of pairing up mudbloods with purebloods and Gryffindors with Slytherins, would you want everyone to know your name?"

"I suppose not." He shrugged. "Anyway, I met with Lavender today, honestly, she's not that bad, well, for a Gryffindor. She can be a bit intense but she's cool. Did you meet with Hermione, I mean, er, Granger." Blaise flushed a little at his mistake. "Sorry, it's just that Lavender asked me about her and called her 'Hermione' so—"

"Yes, I did, and it didn't go any better than you would think it would." Draco snarled. "My mother will be so disappointed about this, I wrote her today telling her all about it."

"Lighten up, Draco, maybe this won't be as bad as you think. Even if it is pretty bad..." Blaise's voice drowned out as he realized that he had no experience in trying to comfort Draco or even where to begin. "Er, anyway, Pansy is going over to see Weasley tomorrow, maybe you could go with her and talk to, uh, Granger about that whole wedding date thing."

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Maybe. Besides, I can pick the date just fine I don't need _her_ input on the matter."

He shrugged. "Alright."

Drawing out a sheet of parchment and getting a quill, he began to write a note to the Ministry, selecting the date of their wedding and adding a few complaints for good measure.

* * *

><p>It had been deceptively cool for the last two days—as if the weather had been mimicking Hermione's mood, gray-clouding over the sun, ominous silence sitting in the air.<p>

Today, on the other hand, the sun was shining, and Hermione and Ginny laid on the grass outside the house and their faces tipped toward the sun. The ecstasy of warmth freckling her cheeks and her chest is enough to distract her from the idea of marriage, for now.

"Hey, Harry." Ginny smiled brightly, twisting her body around so she could see Harry and Ron walking over to them.

"Hey, Gin." Harry replied, bending down and placing a quick kiss upon her lips before throwing himself down beside her.

Ron sat down next to Hermione, leaning on his elbows. "Have you picked the date for your wedding yet, Hermione?" Ron asked, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"No, I just assumed the Ministry would choose it for us like they chose everything else. Why? Have they sent you something?" Hermione's eyes flickered over to him, her wonderful moment of peace over.

"Yeah, they sent me a list of dates to choose from. I s'pose they've sent it to Malfoy then." He said, sneering over the name Malfoy. "Pansy's coming by tonight, I suspect she'll bring him along."

"She agreed to come here?" Ginny's brows arched in surprise. "Really? I would've thought she'd go on and on about not wanting to come here because if she did she'd catch something."

"I thought that too but she seemed mildly okay with it." Ron shrugged.

Hermione, however, had no comment on any of this, she had been too busy thinking on the subject of Draco actually coming to dinner tonight. She did _not_ want to talk about marriage to anyone right now, least of all him._ Godric, help me. __  
><em>

* * *

><p>Stupid. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. He was going over to <em>Weaselbee<em>'s house-or rather, in Draco's opinion, their _shed_ for dinner. Draco swore violently under his breath as he and Pansy Apparated to the Burrow. It looked different than he thought it would, or not as bad as he presumed it would be, but still it was nothing compared to his beloved manor.

Pansy was busy fixing her hair as they knocked on the door. Draco tugged on his tie_,_ it felt as if it was suddenly tightening around his neck, choking him, as it had done when he pictured this moment. Naturally, he would never choose to show this side of himself in front of them, he would put on his air of arrogance and loathing but he knew it was going to be quite nerve-wracking to sit in a room full of people that hate him.

Dinner had gone better than he expected. The only words he said to Hermione were "Hello, Granger" and all he did the whole dinner was sit next to her and eat. Pansy was actually getting along with Weasley for the most part and she was chattering on about what dress she wanted and what ring and that she got to pick the location of their wedding. Potter and Ginny were doing about the exact same thing, but he and Hermione were eating in silence. At the end of dinner, Pansy was now arguing with Ron on the date of the wedding and Ginny and Harry had disappeared upstairs.

"So," Hermione muttered nervously as she walked with Draco toward the front doorway. "Have you received the letter about our, er, wedding dates?"

"Yeah, I already picked out the date. August 10th." Draco said with a shrug. "I just figured you would be fine with whatever date I chose."

"What if I had something planned that day?"

"Do you?"

"No, but-"

"Well, then, it's fine."

"But that's not the point, Malfoy. You should at least consult me before-"

"It's done with, just leave it."

"No, I will not just leave it!" She huffed. "As your future wife I believe I have a say in-"

"My _future wife_," Draco sneered. "Oh, please, let's not pretend like either of us give a damn about this wedding."

She blew an exasperated puff of breath out of her mouth and shook her head slowly. "You may be right about that but I still think you should at least try to make an effort and-where are you going?" She shouted as Malfoy turned away from her, opened the front door and started walking away.

"Away."

"You can't keep running away-"

"As I recall, it was you who left our previous meeting." He snapped.

"That's not what I meant. I mean-"

"Fuck off." He still kept his back turned to her, he doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to listen, he doesn't want her to remind him of anything from his past. "And by the way, they say they've prepared a 'home' for us."

Before she could say anything more, he Apparated away.

**_A/N: I just want to say thanks for the reviews :) And I hope you liked chapter 2_**


	3. The Dress

Hermione's eyes sprung open and she immediately regretted it, the sun was streaming in through the window and flashed painfully in her eyes. Today, she was going wedding shopping with Pansy Parkinson. The shock of Pansy's suggestion that they all went shopping together was definitely a blow but not more than the blow that she was actually shopping for her and Draco Malfoy's wedding.

Swinging her legs free of the bed sheets and watched the sun rise casting a lazy brilliant golden glow over the room, fluffy clouds outlined the slender rising sun. Doing up her hair into a messy bun, she pulled on her usual attire, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

Ginny Weasley was cleaning dishes with a casually lazy flick of her wand as she walked in. There was pancakes and bacon awaiting Hermione on the table. Ron had nearly finished his own plate, and was busy wolfing down another bite. Harry was eating too and reading the Quibbler. Luna was also seated at the table, an odd pair of pink sunglasses with winged rims resting on her face.

"Oh good morning, Hermione!" Luna greeted the sleepy-eyed witch in her lofty voice. "Sleep well?"

"Alright, thanks." Hermione smiled softly as she took her seat.

"Fred and George are coming over later, 'Mione." Ron told her around a mouthful of food.

"Yes, and Bill and Fleur are coming tomorrow." Ginny added.

"What for?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"Harry and I are having our wedding in four days!" Ginny grinned as she told her friend the news.

"That's brilliant, Ginny, congratulations." Hermione smiled at both Ginny and Harry.

"Thanks." Harry returned the smile and continued eating his breakfast.

"Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere with Parkinson today?" Ron asked, swallowing another gulp of food and then realizing, clearly disappointed, that he had finished all of his food.

"Oh yes, they're all going shopping for dresses. Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy. I'm going with Lavender, Padma and Parvati. I'm not entirely certain but I do believe Cho Chang is going with us too." Luna told them.

"Cho Chang's getting married? To who?" Harry asked and Ginny looked clearly uncomfortable and irked at the mention of Harry's ex.

"Ernie Macmillan." She answered before leaping up suddenly from her chair. "I almost forgot I'm meeting them in five minutes! I'll see you later, everyone."

There was a chorus of mumbled "Goodbye, Luna" and then she Disapparated.

"Speaking of meeting up," Hermione began, "Aren't we supposed to be meeting Pansy at the dress shop soon?"

"Oh, yeah," The ginger girl sighed, clearly not at all excited about this. "That's going to be a joy."

* * *

><p>The sound of the lilting music and indecipherable chatter surrounded the three girls as they each pulled on different wedding gowns; Pansy's dresses were much less modest than the ones that Ginny and Hermione were trying on. After a tiresome hour or so of trying on unsuccessful dresses, Hermione finally pulled on the last one she had picked out. Exiting the changing room she made her way over to a full-length mirror. She gasped, startled by her own appearance.<p>

The dress was sleeveless and traditionally white with a dip in the bust to show a modest amount of cleavage. The dress bodice was fitted, flared at the waist and tumbled into a sea of skirts. She reached up and pulled down her bun and let her hair fall heavily around her neck.

"Oh, Hermione, you look gorgeous!" Ginny exclaimed happily. Ginny herself was too wearing a dress. The dress was very simple; its flowing material belted high under the bosom with a white ribbon. The sleeves were elbow-length sleeves were tied with ribbon of the same color.

"Thanks, Gin." Hermione beamed. "And you look like Cinderella in that dress."

"Who?" Pansy and Ginny asked at the same time.

"Erm, never mind, it's a muggle story." She shook her head.

"What d'you think of my dress?" Pansy asked, clearing hating that the attention wasn't focused on her. Pansy's dress was far more low cut than Ginny's or Hermione's, white lace covering most of the front in intricate patterns, with a slit in the side that showed a bit of her leg up to mid-thigh.

"I, uh, think that Ron will like it." Hermione nodded encouragingly even though she thought Pansy looked a bit too revealing, leaving hardly anything to the imagination.

"Same here, you look, er, great." Ginny backed up Hermione's attempt to assure Pansy that they liked it.

"Thanks!" Pansy beamed, not noticing anything suspicious. Hastily, they changed back into their former outfits and bought the dresses. Hermione lingered by the tiaras, lifting one of them into her hands and delicately tracing the diamonds with her fingertips.

"Granger, Weasley, Parkinson."

A cold but familiar voice rang out from behind Hermione and she froze on the spot. Turning around, she saw Draco Malfoy, leaning casually against one of the walls.

"Thinking about dolling yourself up for me, Granger?" Draco smirked, eying the sparkling tiara in Hermione's hands and she immediately dropped it back down. "Cute."

She made a noise of disgust. "Don't flatter yourself."

He seemed to ignore this and he unpeeled himself from the wall and sauntered over to them. "Ready to go?"

"What?" Pansy seemed taken aback by this. "I thought we were meeting back at Blaise-"

"Well, I changed my mind, alright?" Draco said a little too quickly, his eyes flickering over to Hermione for a split second before returning to Pansy.

"Erm, okay, then. I just thought that I could've Apparated back on my own but-"

"Well, whatever, I'm here now anyway." He interrupted, taking Pansy by the hand and dragging her to his side.

"Wait, my dress," Pansy said, jerking her hand out of Draco's white-knuckled grip. She lifted up the dress, covered by a long, white plastic bag, with a simple murmur of_ wingardium leviosa_. "Okay, I'll see you two some other time then."

Ginny was scrutinizing Draco suspiciously as his gaze once again shifted to Hermione who was tying her hair back up into a bun. Draco snatched Pansy's hand into his own.

"See you around, Granger."

"Er, bye, Malfoy."

His eyes surveyed Hermione for a lingering moment before Disapparating.

* * *

><p>Ginny laid with her back cushioned by plush carpeting, her legs kicked up and resting against her bed, angled upwards from the floor. She was telling Hermione about the guests coming to her wedding as she stared up at the ceiling.<p>

Hermione was flipping through a book, her legs stretched out in front of her and her back against the wall. At times like this, she usually found it quite easy to relax and kick back. Some days she felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, with everything that was to come stretched out in front of her along with everything that happened to her in the past.

But not today apparently,she found her thoughts plagued by none other than Draco. Hermione imagined herself grown and married to Malfoy with a little house and a baby to call her own, and tried to see herself happy there. It didn't work. But the idea still sat in her mind's eye, flipping over and over like a bad dream, each picture looking more wrong than the one before.

Shaking herself free of the reverie, she slammed the book shut and turned her attention onto Ginny.

"Besides, according to Dad, the Ministry's is putting a time limit on the marriages. If you want to get divorced, you can do so after five months of marriage. Not that it applies to Harry and I, I just thought you'd be interested in that bit of information." Ginny was saying.

Hermione breathed out for what felt like the first time in days. "I had thought that they wanted us to have children, wasn't that what one of the letters said?" Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but I guess the way they figure it, five months of regular sex with no magical or muggle protection should be enough time to impregnate a witch."

"I don't want to have babies with Draco." The childish sentence fell from her lips before she could hold it back.

"I'd be surprised if you wanted to." She chuckled as she climbed up into her bed. "But what was up with Draco just showing up at the dress shop today? Pansy didn't seem to have been expecting him."

"I was wondering the same thing."

"You don't reckon he was there to see you?"

"Me?" Hermione blinked. "I-no-why? He hates me."

"Well, he couldn't stop glancing at you, that's for sure. He was checking you out." Ginny dropped a playful at Hermione who looked flabbergasted.

"No! He wouldn't-you're being ridiculous. I'm going to bed, goodnight." And before Ginny could protest Hermione whisked her wand and the lights went out. A slow, burning heat crossed Hermione's cheeks and she buried herself beneath the covers. Silently hoping that Ginny was right.

_**A/N: Not much but I wanted to add in a bit of girl bonding time and them buying dresses. I enjoy fluffing up Pansy a bit ;P The next chapter will be Draco introducing Hermione to his mother and Ginny and Harry's wedding. Right now up until a little after the wedding, the story will be pretty upbeat, playful with some bickering, but later on the story will become a bit angst-y ;). Review please :D And if there's anything you'd like to request to happen in this story, by all means, go ahead.  
><strong>_


	4. The Dinner

Draco waited impatiently, incessantly pacing the wooden floorboards, and grating his teeth each time the wood beneath his feet creaked. Face set in a deadened frown as he strained to listen, he could hear the distant flap of wings before seeing the owl itself. In a flutter of wings, the bird landed on the windowsill and Draco carefully plucked the letter off of it's leg.

__Draco,__

__ I'm sorry to hear that this marriage law has affected you. But perhaps this won't turn out as badly as you expect it will. Invite this Granger girl to dinner at the Manor tonight at 7:00. There's not much to tell you about what's going on here, your father is searching for a new job since he got sacked from his job at the Ministry. I wish I could write more but all I really want to say is that I miss you, Draco, and I can't wait to see you tomorrow. __

__ Love, __

__ Mum.__

Draco stared at the letter uncomprehendingly. What had he just read? His mother wanted that mudblood to come into their home, into their manor? It was a disgrace that muggle-borns were even allowed to walk among the pure-bloods. Shaking off his sense of disgust, he dropped the letter onto the coffee table and began pacing again.

What troubled him even more than the fact that she was now being introduced to his family was that he did go to the bridal shop to see her. He went there to see Granger. How he had become so determined to see her to find out what she was doing and where she was? It had to be blatant curiosity, or a way to make sure she wasn't further embarrassing him aside from the fact that she was muggle-born. In Draco's eyes there was no other explanation for his behavior.

Glancing at the clock, the wizard noticed he had just under an hour to go get Granger and bring her to the manor. Without further ado, he Disapparted out.

The Burrow loomed before him now, tall and wooden. Draco walked to the door, shaking off a bit of mud that caked his shoe as he went. The door swung open and none other than Saint Potter, the boy who just wouldn't die, stood before him.

"Er—Draco? What're you doing here?" Harry looked thoroughly surprised to see slytherin boy standing there.

"I'm here to see my 'fiancee', you know, Granger." Draco said impatiently as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh—uh—right, yeah, come in." Harry moved away so that Malfoy could walk swung the door shut behind them and Harry called out," Hermione!"

"What? I'm upstairs, in Ginny's room!" Came the hollered reply.

Harry opened his mouth to call back to her but Draco was already moving toward the staircase. "I can find her on my own, Potter." He smirked to himself as he mounted the stairs, thinking of how much it would freak Granger out when he suddenly showed up in her room.

The witch was plopped down in front of the mirror that was situated above a short dresser, adjusting her sweater and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He moved toward her. "What are you doing, Granger?"

Hermione jumped, the old dresser shuddering against its hinges. "Malfoy!" She hissed. "Get out!"

"Jeez, not very friendly, are we, Granger?" Draco sneered.

"What do you want?" She growled.

"To...invite you to dinner tonight." He had to force the words out between clenched teeth.

"To...what?" She seemed genuinely surprised, her eyebrows raised.

His jaw set to hold back the patience leaking out of him, and he let out a heavy breath of air. "To go to dinner with me and my family tonight."

Eyes half-lidded in shallow defiance; she drew her hair up into pins."Look, Malfoy, if you think that this is funny—"

An irritated groan rippled in his throat and she sneaked a glimpse of him through the mirror. He was about five seconds away from pacing holes into the flooring.

"My parents want you to come to the Manor tonight, in about an hour."

Hermione seemed to stiffen at the words 'the Manor' and her eyes ducked to the floor.

"What is it now?" He asked, frowning.

"Last time I was there..." She shuddered. "Your aunt..."

Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment and then it hit him. Last time she was there, she had the cruciatus curse used on her by his aunt Bellatrix. He could still remember her screams, the sounds of her limbs thudding heavily against the floors as she struggled.

"Well, uh, we—" He seemed at a loss for words, unsure of what to say.

The irritation at his inability to make himself sympathetic to her plight renewed her vigor and reminded her of who she was talking to. "Well, then you can wait or go by yourself," She snapped at him in a matter-of-fact tone.

Realizing that she was actually accepting his request, he slinked back downstairs to wait. Harry was watching him warily from within the kitchen as he stood. Putting on one of his signature sneers, he turned to the boy.

"See something you like, Potter?"

"Sod off, Malfoy."

He had heard the tap of a fingernail against wall and turned to find Granger there. "Ready, Draco?" Her hair had been tucked up into a neat, sleek bun, a few loose hairs raining around her face, brushing her bare neck. She had on a pale, ash-pink dress that reached just down to her knees and he watched her walk to his side.

"Let's get this over with." He said shortly and Hermione tentatively gripped his arm as they Apparated out.

* * *

><p>"So, Miss Granger, I hear that you're the brightest witch of your age." Narcissa said, no trace of sarcasm or hatefulness in her voice. The dinner had been going on for about ten minutes and no one had said a word before this. Lucius looked uncomfortable but made no insults at Hermione or said anything at all.<p>

Hermione lifted her head, straightening her spine, "I suppose. I've been told that many times." The table lapsed into silence again until the silence was broken again by Malfoy's mother.

"I want to..." Narcissa began slowly. "Apologize for our behavior in the past."

"No, Mrs. Malfoy, it's alright—"

"No, it isn't. You know, I don't hate mudblood—muggle-borns. The only reason I was on..." She hesitated. "Voldemort's side was to protect my family, I thought that if we were on his side no harm could come to us. I must also apologize for my sister, Bellatrix's behavior toward you, she was quite out of order in doing what she did." Narcissa seemed to be getting breathless as if a lump had risen in her throat. "And my other sister, Andromeda, married a muggle-born. She was disowned for it. I...just needed to get that all off of my chest."

"I—thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione said, she had never expected Draco's mother to be a kind woman but it seemed as if she really was sorry for everything.

"I just hope that you and Draco can be happy one day, like Andromeda and her husband." She sent a smile in Draco's direction. "I want you to be happy, Draco. Will you two tell me that you'll try? Try to make marriage work?"

Draco and Hermione exchanged a looked that read '_that's not likely_' but Hermione turned to his mother with a forced smile. "We'll try."

Leaning close to the young witch, Narcissa whispered so only Hermione could hear. "Draco is troubled, Hermione, he needs someone to fix him and he won't let me do it. Promise me you'll help him."

For a moment, a cruel part of her inner-self wanted to say no, and to shout that he didn't deserve her help. Surely, she couldn't be blamed for hating him. And the second the thought passed out of her mind, the word yes had slipped out of her lips.

* * *

><p>"Accio," A wand was held into the air leisurely from where Hermione stood by the opened window. Draco and Hermione were in the living room, his eyes locked on the door considering whether or not he should leave the room. She had raised a wand and summoned a dying flower that rested just beyond the windowsill.<p>

Draco's eyes tore away from the door, from the glistening, unmoving latch, and frowned at her as she regarded him bemusedly.

"What are you doing?" He retorted in both ignorance of the answer and of what she was doing, returning his gaze to the bronze doorknob.

The flower with the broken stem had floated into her palm and she pointed her wanted at it and muttered, "Episkey." The broken stem mended itself and the flower seemed to blossom all over again and Hermione twirled it absentmindedly.

"Magic," Hermione began persistently, stealing Draco's attention back without so much as a gesture, her hand dropping back to her side. "Is everything to muggles…because they don't have any." Lips pursing upwards in the ghost of a knowing smile, she added, "If you're going to spend so much time preaching about being a wizard, you should at least understand what it means. And that it's more than just cruel spells and being in control of those weaker than you," Her eyes glanced at the spot on the floor where she had once lain while Bellatrix tortured her. "It's beauty and goodness too."

"Spare me the whole 'you could be a good wizard' speech, Granger," Draco mumbled.

She wanted to applaud, to commend him on such a convincing facsimile of not caring, not giving damn about righting his past wrongs. It irritated her that he could still be so hateful toward her and still pretend as if the war hadn't left it's affect on him like it did on everyone. Metallic and clipped, her voice now contained less mercy than a dagger's blade; "You're a bad liar, Draco." She paused, her lips quaking, unsure of what to say next. "You do care, deep down somewhere you want to redeem yourself of your past-"

"You think I wanted to be a death-eater?" Draco shouted, his temper flaring. "You think I wanted to murder and be in constant fear for my life?"

She paused again, changing her stature to something less convicting and more understanding. "Draco, you knew what you were signing up for." Her voice wasn't unkind, and perhaps it's that which surprised him. His selfishness and fear shouldn't be matched with compassion—he should be reprimanded for it.

"I didn't want to lose my family! Come on, Granger, tell me you wanted that. Tell me you saw that coming, wiping your parents memories?" He looked at Hermione directly now who looked slightly shocked that he knew that bit of information. For a fleeting moment, Draco wanted desperately to drag Hermione down with him, to see her as tainted as his is, if only to assure him that he was not alone in despair.

"We might have suffer many things for a better cause." There's insistence in Hermione's voice that told him he should have done this. It did not condemn him. Her voice did not accuse him.

He wished it did. Hermione may be close with the hijacker of her path during the war, her precious Potter, but the person he'd followed had done nothing but endanger his family and steal his life.

At this rate, it'd be better to burn.

* * *

><p>The night was moon-drenched and cool, a nice contrast to the haze of candles and music and body-heat inside. It was Harry and Ginny's wedding and the air was full of joyous celebration. Nearly all of Ginny's family members, with the exception of Ginny's Great Aunt Muriel, a detail which Hermione was grateful for, had come to the wedding along with various friends from Hogwarts.<p>

Hermione now stood on the grass outside of the large tent and caught her breath; her dress was sticking to her skin, and her breath was hitching in her chest—she had been rendered nearly breathless by excesses of laughter and dancing. A cold glass of wine situated in one hand and she took a swig from it.

"Evening, Granger."

The cool glass paused, raised against her lips, her eyes locked on the entrance of the tent rather than the owner of the voice. Hesitant eyes ducked to the drink in her hands, the hand, still clasping it, fell down to her side. She hadn't seen him—but of course she was nearly 100 percent sure that Ginny had invited him, and it would be a lie to say she is surprised to find him here.

"Draco, I'm surprised you actually came." Hermione said coldly.

He smiled, slow and razor-edged. "I didn't come for the wedding," He held out something to her and as her eyes adjusted to the dark she could see properly what it was, a small silver key.

"What's this?" She asked, reaching out and accepting it from it, her fingertips lightly grazed his palm.

"A fucking wand." He curled his lip. "No, it's a key."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Malfoy." She narrowed her eyes. "A key to what?"

"_Our_ new apartment." Draco told her.

"So, we're moving in together already?" Hermione gaped at him.

"Don't get too excited, Granger, I'm not going to let you grope me in my sleep."

"Don't be crass."

"Oh and one more thing, Granger, I don't know what was up with your whole 'I give a shit about you' act is about but I don't want it. I don't need your help."

"Draco, I-"

Before she could say more, he was gone.

**_A/N: So I love making Narcissa nice, I dunno why I just love it. So, in the chapter Draco and Hermione will be finalizing some details for their wedding ceremony and some other things._**


	5. The Flat

Fuck her. Fuck Granger. Fuck her and her ability to penetrate his mind. To parade past his subdued defenses as Draco slept. To force herself into his dream, teasing him and stealing whatever semblance of normality was left in his life. She was taking hold of what should be rightfully his. The flashes of her face in his mind took minutes, hours, however long it took to have her image deeply embedded into his skull, cracking whips upon his veins.

The dreams passed, releasing him from their grasp with a start, and he awoke to a dark room, the bed rustling with his movements as he sat up. Since when did he even start thinking of her, since when he did start to question his sanity because every place he went he couldn't get her out of his head? How did he let this get to point where it wasn't even safe for him to sleep without fear of her entering his thoughts? A headache rattled in Draco's brain and he shuffled to the bathroom and tore his shirt off over his head and splashed water onto his face. Come on, Draco, focus. You do not like Granger, you hate her in fact.

The empty words buzzed around in his head and he willed them to be true, he willed himself to believe them, if only for this moment.

Draco breathed in, one, two, three, all the way to ten; maybe even twenty if he must. He picked up this little exercise during his sixth year at Hogwarts, it seemed to help him relax and regain control. Draco felt beaten, broken, but the sun was rising nonetheless. In this moment he was alone with his thoughts, and that was the most painful part of all.

* * *

><p>"Ginny!" Hermione yelled, rapping with her fist on the door to Ginny's room. "I need to come in!"<p>

"Um, n-now's not a—" Ginny seemed to stifle some sort of giggle before continuing. "good time, 'Mione."

"I just need to grab a change of clothes." Hermione stomped her foot down in frustration. "Please, Gin." She was standing outside the bedroom door with a white towel wrapped around her naked body, her wet hair starting to dry as it hung loosely about her neck.

"I—oh—just need another minute." Ginny's voice seemed far too breathless to Hermione's keen ears.

"Is there someone in there with you?" She frowned.

"No." came the other girl's voice, a little too quickly.

_Crack._

"Course there's not."

Hermione jumped as the twins Apparated into the hallway, right behind her. Fred dropped a wink at Hermione as he saw her and George whistled lowly.

"Sure, you'd want to grab a change of clothes?" Fred smirked.

"Yeah, because personally I think you look quite good like this." George added. "Besides, I think there might be a change of clothes awaiting you in our bedroom." He added as a flirty afterthought.

Hermione rolled her eyes at them. "No thank you."

Before either twin could reply, everyone's attention was otherwise diverted when they heard a loud thump in Ginny's room.

"Ginny? Are you alright?" She asked. There was no response; she exchanged a confused glance with the twins.

"Ginny?"

Nothing.

"We're coming in." George said in unison with Fred.

"No!"

But it was too late, Hermione, Fred, and George had unlocked the door and thrown it open. Hermione's vision was assaulted with the image of a very naked Ginny on top of a very naked Harry, they were sprawled out on the floor, a sheet barely twisted around them. Fred and George were horrified and each let out their own cry, before darting out of the room. Hermione covered her eyes and backed out of the room.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

Hermione slammed the door behind them, her face turning a deep scarlet color. Both of the twins were wearing identical masks of horror.

"Well, I've seen enough of the both of them to last a lifetime." commented Fred.

"Same here." Was all George could manage.

Hermione scrubbed at her eyes with clenched fists, desperately trying to make the image of Ginny and Harry disintegrate from her mind. Hermione waited around until the couple left the room, both of them guilty and red-faced. Hermione avoided eye-contact and went into the room, carefully sidestepping around the bed and changing into a pair of jeans and t-shirt. She looked down at her packed bags, an wave of nausea rising from her stomach. She would have to live with Malfoy, to sleep with him and the wedding was in just under two days time.

Heaving the bad that contained all of her belongings—the extension charm making it possible to pack everything in one bag—onto her shoulder, she marched down the staircase and into the kitchen. Harry looked up as she entered.

"Morning, Hermione." He said sheepishly.

"Good morning, Harry, have a good night?" She teased and he flushed. "Anyway, I'm going to bring my stuff over to the apartment."

"Oh, yeah, you have to live with Malfoy." Harry said sympathetically. "Ginny and I are moving into our flat when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley get back from their vacation."

Hermione bit into a slice of toast and nodded. Finishing the piece of bread, she brushed the crumbs off of herself. With a goodbye to Harry, she departed from the house and found herself in front of a tall apartment building where the Ministry was keeping all of the arranged couples to "keep an eye on them".

She found the flat they would be sharing and unlocked the door. The living room was fairly large, plain white walls, no painting or decorations, a big, tan, leather couch stationed to the right of a window. Next to the living room was the kitchen, quite spacious but nothing fancy, just some empty cabinets, a fridge, a stove and a small table with four seats.

Continuing her assessment of the loft, she found a pair of glass double doors that led to a balcony and she discovered where the bathroom was located. Finally, she came upon the bedroom. There was a four poster, king-size bed with curtains right smack in the middle of the room. Of course, she had known that there would be only one bed for them but seeing it made it seem all the more real. In addition to the bed, there were two dressers and one closet.

"So, Granger, musing on what it would be like to be in that bed with me?" A voice teased from behind her.

Hermione jumped a little before turning around and finding exactly who she had been expecting that voice to belong to, Draco Malfoy. She sighed, "You know, you really should make your presence known before you enter a room."

"Now why would I do that when I could freak you out like this?" He said snobbishly.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" She groaned.

"Same as you, Granger," He nodded at her bag. "Unpacking."

She turned her back to him again and then went over to one of the wardrobe and opened her bag, pulling out her clothes and began putting her clothes into it.

"We still need to find a place for the wedding ceremony." Draco said as he too began placing his clothes into the dresser and putting other personal objects around the room.

"You don't want to have it at the Burrow?" She asked as she swiveled around and looked at him. He gave her a look telling her that she already knew the answer to that. "Okay, erm, where do you think we should have it then?"

"The ma—"

"Don't you dare say the manor, isn't enough that I already went there the other day with you?"

"Twitchy about the manor, aren't you, Granger?" Draco taunted.

"I don't think you're one to be talking about twitchy, ferret," Hermione shot back.

Draco smirked. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you."

She neglected to respond or show that she heard his comment and finished unpacking. "Well, Ron's brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur, have a cottage in Cornwall. It's right near the beach, maybe we could have the ceremony around there?"

Malfoy seemed to consider this for a few moments before giving a half-shrug. "Sure, whatever."

They lapsed into silence and Hermione sat down onto the bed, the soft fabric shifting beneath her. Draco was leaning against the closet door.

Draco's mouth pulled up on one side, arranging his features into a self-assured smirk. "You know, Granger, if you wanted to test the bed with me all you had to do was ask."

"_Malfoy._" She hissed in a warning tone at his second attempt to tease her but he just laughed. She shook her head, but cracked a smile. She smiled up at the man who had tortured her for what she was, who had taken every opportunity to downgrade her, and hummed a small laugh before asking in her naturally matter-of-fact voice, "Are you ready for that?"

"For what?" He asked raising a brow.

"The marriage is in two days and..." She trailed off, trying to make him understand what she meant.

He went silent for a few seconds. "I s'pose. You?"

She gulped in a breath of air to steady herself. "Yeah."

"This whole marriage law was a fucked up idea anyway." Draco scoffed.

"I agree with you there," She nodded, getting up from where she was seated on the bed. "I guess the ministry just didn't know what to do after the war." He narrowed his eyes at her as she lingered over the words 'the war'. Hermione stopped suddenly, wondering if she should continue. Her voice toned down, she continued, "If you need to talk to someone about it, and it doesn't have to be me but—"

"Didn't I already tell you to stop? Bloody hell," Draco snarled, "I thought you got my message that I don't want to talk to you about this, I don't need the help of a mudblood."

"This has nothing to do with my blood status, Malfoy. This has to do with you and the fact that you won't admit that you're struggling—"

"And you're not? You know full well that this war killed you too."

The ache which had taken root in Hermione chest spread further through her body—this boy had struck far too near to home.

He shook his head at her. "Déjà vu much, Granger? We already went over this and I told you to bugger off."

"Draco—"

"I don't want your help! I don't need you to—"

"So you keep telling me, but I think you do, Draco." Hermione snapped back before sighing, clearly exasperated. "I'm not the only person who thinks so."

He looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"Your mother made me promise to try to help you." She lowered her voice but kept her eyes on his, Draco let out breathy hiss and raked his hands through his hair. "But I can't do that unless you let me."

"Since when do you give a shit?"

"Because someone has to and why not me?"

"Because you didn't before."

"Well, unlike you, I've learned to let go of the past."

"I won't ever be able to let go of the war, don't you understand?" Draco pulled back the sleeve of his shirt with a vicious anger and thrust his arm at her. The dull but still visible Dark Mark lingered there.

Hermione watched as it moved feebly, still pledging allegiance to an absent lord, allegiance she knew that Malfoy never had. "The war left it's mark on all of us," She turned her arm over and the scar of the word 'mudblood' lay against the fair skin there. "But you know what? It serves as a reminder of what happened, it reminds me of what kind of people are out there."

Draco slumped against the wall, his temper slowing.

"It's a reminder of what you did in the past too, but the past doesn't condemn you, Draco." She was scared for a moment that she had lost him by saying these things—by demanding such strength from him, strength that he should face his past. The strength that neither of them had readily available. He seemed lost, lost in some search for words; words she expected but couldn't have. Finally, he shrugged, a shrug that told her that he had in fact listened to her.

He looked around the room, noting that both of them had finished their unpacking. He and Hermione left the bedroom and made their way to the doorway of the house. He opened the door and looked at her as if he wanted to say something but turned away. She moved forward to follow when something happened.

Hermione kissed him, an accidental collision of lips caused by miscalculating her aim and him turning at the last minute. Draco caught her wrist and he felt like a villain in a fairy tale when he pulled her in. Soft pressure, warmth, a hint of moistness, and the taste of him she didn't _know_ but had guessed from breathing him in. There was a quick sweep of tongue, a fleeting biting sensation. He had curled an arm around her and crushed her into his chest. It couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 seconds long before he regained his senses.

Without warning, he tore away from her and pushed hard at her shoulder. She stumbled backward, catching hold of the doorway before she could topple over. Malfoy was glaring at her, his chest hitching up and down.

Panic rushed through his body, boiling his blood, she had broken his control like nothing else ever had. She stared back at him, her face pale with shock.

He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't, he scrambled backward, he had to leave. A wall, the house, the city, the country; he doesn't know, he just knew there should be distance between them. He staggered away from the shell-shocked Hermione and bolted down the stairs, wanting to retch up whatever taste of her lingered.

It wasn't like he hadn't kissed girls, mostly Slytherin girls, when basic physical desire kicked in and he needed his fix. But then there had been a deliberate decision to do that, and those kisses were cut free of any emotion at all; no feelings. But this — this was entirely different. There was heat flowing through his body, and a tide of goosebumps had broken out over his skin. He was even more screwed that he had previously thought.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_ _So that was chapter five :) I have a guilty pleasure for making Draco suffer. By the way, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. The next chapter is the wedding_**


	6. The Wedding

This was it. Today was the wedding. Hermione, the Weasley family and Harry were all at Bill and Fleur's cottage; the beach near the cottage already clustered with chairs and decorations.

Hermione stared at the dress and the tiara, that Ginny had bought her, almost blankly. They were, admittedly, beautiful but it simply didn't feel right to wear them. She couldn't touch them. Hermione wasn't ready. Tears sprang to her eyes as she stood, not bothering to touch the silky gown, and fully intending on running away. She wasn't ready for this wedding, especially not after what had happened the last time she saw Draco.

Even though she wanted so badly to think about how angry Draco would be at her once they were married, how he would constantly taunt her, a single thought tickled the edge of her mind, begging to be let in—he had kissed her back. That kiss had unquestionably changed everything she had thought about Draco. This kiss was so different from the one she'd shared with Ron, that kiss had been spur of the moment and, although heated, lacked the passion she had felt with Malfoy. But the way he had reacted afterward, she had resisted the urge to yell at him. Shouldn't she be the one horrified? After all, he was the one that had pulled her in when they had kissed.

She slumped down onto bed, and reflexively began to wring her hands–something she had found herself doing especially when nervous or upset. And upset was the mildest way to describe what she was feeling then.

Still, she had to play nice with Draco, after all today was their wedding and she didn't want him to jinx her in the middle of the ceremony. As if reading her thoughts, Narcissa Malfoy popped into the doorway, holding a tux with a see-through plastic covering on it.

"Hermione, could you bring this to Draco while I help the others prepare?" She asked, holding out the tux.

She wanted to say no, she had merely been musing on whether she should play nice with Draco, she had no intention of going to see the wizard. But her manners kicked in and she accepted the tux from his mother with a forced smile.

She found the room his mother had told her that he was staying in and swiftly rapped on the door.

"Go away, I don't want to talk."

Hermione swallowed, this was a mistake, and she should just turn around and leave. She was going to do just that when the door swung open and Draco stood there, shirtless, stern expression changing to surprise when he saw Hermione. There were a few moments of awkward silence before she remembered the tux.

"Oh! Here, your mother told me to give you this..." She held the tux up and Draco took it with surprising gentleness into his long-fingered hands, but his eyes remained on Hermione.

"Thanks," He murmured, "you can come in. If you want." With that he turned and walked back to his bed, settling himself down on it, where Hermione assumed he had been just moments ago. Accepting the invitation, she followed him in and stopped, not sure whether it was okay to sit down. She saw Draco placing the tux down onto the bed before he lifted his wand to heal his bloodied side—a long, deep cut that lay across his ribs—and her inner caretaker kicked in.

"How'd you get that?" She gestured to the wound.

He scowled at her, "I fell down on some sharp rocks when I Apparated onto the beach."

Disregarding the fact that he was probably lying to her, she examined the wound from a distance. "You're going to need a potion to fix that," She darted out of the room, and came back with a small vile and a towel. She handed Draco the towel and she noticed how he carefully avoided touching her as he took it and used a corner of the towel to mop up the still flowing blood.

"Essence of Dittany," She told him as she held out the vile as began putting drops of it into the wound.

Draco allowed her, wondering how this woman had suddenly become a part of his life. A strange, emotion provoking part that he had never invited in.

"I've had worse." He replied quietly.

"What?"

"Worse wounds, Granger," He said. The only reason he was even letting her close to him right now because he was actually injured despite the fact that he lied about how it had happened. The truth was that he was trying to Apparate to the beach, but his thoughts were elsewhere and he was splinched, just barely but he still left a small piece of his side behind.

Silence reigned until Hermione broke it, suddenly avoiding eye contact. "Do you want to talk," Her voice almost a whisper, "about the other night, I mean."

Draco stiffened.

"We have to talk about it you know." It was said nonchalantly but Draco wrapped his fingers around Hermione's wrist and effectively paused her dabbing with the Dittany.

"It wasn't your fault, Draco, you know that, don't you? It just happened." The words were spoken softly but the tone was intense.

"Shut up" He mumbled, shoving the blood-stained towel into one of her hands and inspecting the damage on his side, seeing that it was all healed up, using it as a distraction.

"What?" She blinked taken aback, the small bones in her wrist started to hurt from how tightly he was gripped her.

"I said shut up." His voice was louder now.

"Draco, I know—"

"No, Granger, you don't know shit about me and whatever you think happened didn't, so stop over-analyzing things." He said scornfully as he released her wrist.

She rubbed at her wrist which was now burning. "Why can't you accept that you-"

Draco thought about lying and saying that he didn't. Instead he settled on a growled, "Fuck off."

And then she was gone, and Draco was left standing in the middle of his room, his pale fingers knotted into fists.

* * *

><p>Hermione had gone back to her room to prepare for the wedding, aggravated with Malfoy, although there was nothing unusual there.<p>

Ron's mother had fastened her hair into a sleek, elegant bun, complete with a tiara and veil. Her makeup was courtesy of Fleur, and it looked marvelous; her cheeks were rosy and her eyelashes were long and full. A small diamond hung from a delicate silver chain around her neck. The dress that she wore was as striking as she was; the long, white, fabric flowing over her every curve until it fanned out at the bottom, pooling on the floor.

And before she knew it, Fleur had coming hurrying down the hallway shouting that the ceremony was going to begin soon. Hoisting her dress up into her hands, she followed Fleur, Ginny and Molly down to the outside of the cottage. At this distance she could see the beach.

It had been decorated beautifully. Two posts stood tall, flowers twining up them, at the beginning of the aisle. The aisle itself was made of rose petals. Everything spelled happy wedding, coaxing her to let go, to give in to the joyous celebration. She wanted to. And as she neared the beach her heart started to hammer away wildly, the hollow feeling inside her stomach rising into her throat. She could now hear the music coming from the gathering; she clutched the cluster of flowers in her hands tighter, her nails biting into her skin. Each velvety chair that was once absent an owner now had one. The light from the sun was shining on her and the golden harp playing a melody all by itself and everyone was staring.

There he was, Draco Malfoy, standing on at the end of the trail of rose petals. His white-blonde hair was as neat as ever and he was wearing a suit that looked dashing; she had to mentally scold herself for liking the way the black cloth complimented his pale skin.

Her feet reached the aisle and she began her to walk to marriage. It felt strange, the weight of the gilded gown and the diamond tiara atop her head, and the heavy white material of the dress skirts hanging in rich folds that shifted when she moved. She went still, then, statue-struck and paralyzed in the light that sun provided.

She went forward, her eyes tilted skyward, reminding herself to keep calm before continuing onward. Other than the slow movements of her legs, she didn't even fidget even under so many exhausting layers of cloth on a day of breathless warmth.

In what felt like a sentient lurch, aware of the finality that lay ahead, she became inattentive to everything around her, the feeling of zoning out, the subtle temptress that seduced her so seldom these days. She felt like she stood regarding the scene from a distance.

She reached the end of the aisle, now standing next to Draco. Her mind still buzzing quietly, ignoring her reality. She had read this story many times, seen it printed in thousands of little words in the books she would read through—the good girl and the bad boy, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, the snake and the lion—yet she had never lived in it.

Maybe if she'd gotten with Ron a while ago they would've paired her with him like they had with Ginny and Harry. Maybe—but no. This was not her fault. She may be a figure in this painting, but she was not it's artist. The seconds ticked onward, she felt like a soldier marching to an unforeseen destination.

Snapping back to the present she saw gray eyes regarding hers with tired dereliction. The air seemed to still, a phantom clock chiming the final gongs of the hour.

"I do," Hermione said, her voice soft, vaguely hearing Draco do the same. Clasping her hands tight to her dress, afraid to even touch him. His attention shifted then, to look away from the witch.

And then her lips covered his and the light pressure that she gave was weakly returned. Her one of hands rested on his chest, the other on his forearm, bracing herself. One arm found its way around her while his hand captured her jaw, not firmly, not forcefully, but with an uncharacteristic gentleness that surprised her. She leaned into his touch, a natural reaction, she'd concluded.

* * *

><p>"I still hold that this whole idea of having 'the first dance' was a fucking stupid idea on someone's part." Draco's eyes swiveled over to Hermione as they walked toward the dance floor.<p>

"It's a wedding, it's supposed to be happy and joyous, why is dancing when you're happy such a stupid idea?" Hermione murmured back.

"Well, those were people who actually wanted to get married."

Hermione went silent and then shrugged. Draco continued guiding her back into the circle of light that was at the middle of the dance floor. She hesitated, but with the gaze of everybody's eyes on them, she didn't have much of a choice. Her attention didn't waver from his face as one hand held his as he slipped his hand down her arm and pulled her wrist so that her hand was resting next to his collar.

Her body seemed to catch on fire, the pads of her fingers hyper-sensitive to even the simplest of touches. She could feel every individual thread in his shirt, feel each muscle tensing as they began swaying back and forth to the beat of the song. It was rhythmic and soothing; a predictable beat that she could rely on.

For now, she danced with him, forcing herself to remember that this was just a dance. It was just a dance, a brief moment in time, and all moments had to end sometime.

* * *

><p>He's pathetic, and he knew it.<p>

Draco watched her now—like a demented, infatuated lecher—spinning and dancing, joy and a mischievous grin on her filthy mudblood face. But there she was, laughing with Ron and twirling in her dress. And why was he watching her? Fuck, if only he knew.

She was filth, nothing compared to his purity. She clutched the skirt of her dress in one hand and created a graceful arch as Ron twirled her. He pretended to be occupied with whatever food was laid out in front of him, but his eyes followed her with each motion she took.

Her laughing was starting to get to him. Each smile and each giggle that punctuated the room was like claws through his gut, almost physically damning. And each one, breathless and ripe with genuine happiness, served to pick at the wound there. Like a caged bird, his mind demanded freedom through action. All he had to do was pluck her away from the ginger boy. But of course there was no way he could do that without giving himself away, without showing that some part of him—a fucked up and twisted part—had some sort of stirrings toward the mudblood.

Through the haze of anger and envy, he watched the man take her hand into his own and sway with her. Man. Weasel. He was more the latter, with his idiotic laughter and jerky dancing movements. Nothing like the woman with him.

He wondered if this was some sort of cosmic revenge. As if the universe was playing a trick on him for wronging so many people. Because, dammit all, there was no other explanation. He'd heard a muggle phrase once "What goes around, comes around"; Karma or some shit like that. Was that what this was?

He deserved no better, he knew. And then the other day, he had kissed her, knowing full well that she hated him, with no regard for her side of any of this. Weasel would have thought of it. Weaselbee would have been more careful of her feelings.

He wanted to make her hurt, to make her feel even a fraction of what he was shouldering. And the task to not do so became increasingly difficult as the time passed by.

* * *

><p>His gray eyes narrowed a little as he stared at the dark room ahead of him. He couldn't even believe he was about to do this, to fuck her. Hell, just earlier today he had to marry her and kiss her, wasn't that enough? But no, he had to consummate the marriage now. He could almost picture what lay beyond the doorway, Granger curled up in the bed, her face turned away from him, telling him how much she hated him. Inwardly groaning at the thought, he went into the room. He didn't want her lifeless cheeks to become rosy and vivid when he touched her.<p>

Hermione was on the bed, her knees tucked into her chest. She had, however, he noticed, put on a flattering night dress. The torso was tightly fitted to her, the swell of her breasts showing modestly over the top, the color of the dress seemed to drunk in the hue of wine red. Her hair was drawn up into pins, a few loose curls tumbling around her face and neck. The dress was short and barely brushed her thighs, her creamy thighs available for his eyes to drink in.

"You don't want to do this either, I gather." Hermione sighed, here eyes focused anywhere but on him. "You know we have no choice," She hummed quietly, giving an anesthetic voice to the nagging pain in his mind.

Draco shrugged. He stepped closer to the bed reluctantly, removing his shirt slowly. One of Draco's signature cocky grins graced his lips. "But I bet you've dreamed of this for ages haven't you, Granger?"

"That's absurd and you know it!" Hermione huffed and Draco shrugged again. She blushed, whether from the heat from the room or from his words, she wasn't sure.

Malfoy climbed onto the bed and she hesitantly unwrapped her arms from her legs and laid them out in front of her. She used her arms to lower herself so that she was laying flat on the bed. She stiffly laid there, her chest rising and falling more rapidly as Draco got near.

He drew himself on top of her, and skimmed the revealed skin of her thigh. He felt her body go rigid with embarrassment as he did so. Slowly, her hands soon find his shirt, undoing each one of its buttons and finally removing it.

Draco reached down and pulled her dress up and over her head, and traced his warm touch against Hermione's cold tense skin. He cast his eyes down the unfamiliar curves of her body, the swell of her full breasts, the skin of her stomach tight over muscle, the creamy curve of her hips that traveled down into long, toned legs.

To his surprise, he felt her small, nimble fingers soon began undoing his belt and in a matter of seconds both of their bodies were bare. Hermione blushed deeply as she looked down his body, past the hard muscled stomach, further south. She looked away; he was bigger-much bigger-than she thought he'd be.

Her thighs were tightly closed together, making it entirely too uncomfortable for him to be on top of her. He tried to pry her legs apart but she was too stricken. He bent his head down a bit and whispered, as gently as possible for him. "Open your legs."

Beneath him, gradually, she let her legs shift to make room for his body. He shifted against her, the press of his limbs moving into something not entirely comfortable in that moment but it was familiar. It stunned him a moment, the thought that she could be a virgin. Although shaky, her movements were precise and surprisingly skillful.

"Are you going to tell me?" He murmured.

"What?"

"Are you a virgin?"

When she exhaled, he could feel the roll of her ribcage over his own, and he suppressed a shudder at the odd feeling. "There was one moment with Viktor but," She said, looking him in the eye, her voice oddly serious and soft. "nothing happened. Yes, I'm a..." He could've sworn he saw her blush through the dark, "virgin." She went silent.

Her fingers, which were holding his shoulders, skidded down to his chest, the muscles flexing ever so slightly against the press of her fingertips. She felt his hand slip down her side, to the curve of her hip. She could feel him move against her, pressing gently at her entrance, and her lips parted, parched and breathless. She kept her eyes on him as he shifted into her and a gasp slipped between her lips. Hermione's hands once again found Draco's shoulders and her nails bit into the skin there, waiting for the feeling to pass.

As he slid fully in, but gently, her nails dug in a little deeper and she hissed. Her hipbones arched up to meet him, her knee clasped to his hip. The moan that escaped her mouth was from a throaty, hearty place she scarcely recognized, and it tumbled out of her chest, an alien tone. His fingers tracked a ticklish path up her body, and her heart was beating time with his hand; she could feel it in her throat and the base of her stomach. She was in his hands, and around them there was no sound but the whisper of their silent, shared breaths. A sharp unswallowed sound of delight caught on her lips, and she clenched around him as he began to build a rhythm in his movements.

Their movements became like a duet, each thrust he did she responded with move of her own, roll of her hips or bucking them. Chests expanded, lungs filled, and muscled stretched.

Draco opened his mouth but no sound was produced, his pupils rapidly dilated, black overtaking gray. He felt another moan forming in his throat and cursed himself mentally, he lowered his head into the curve of her neck. His fingers moved slightly up her sides and she was practically putty now, moving and yielding under his touch. Her back arched, pushing her body further into him.

He pulled the pins out of her hair, it fell around her, tendrils of dark blonde hair, wild like a lion's mane, curled wickedly around her chin, her collarbone, her chest, like a gaggle of snakes. Draco curled a hand into it and let out a moan.

She attempted to tug him closer even though there was no way for him to be closer than he was. Her plump bottom lip was suddenly captured in her mouth, and he could witness her teeth biting upon it as she wrapped her legs around him tighter. He thrust again, and her name keened in his throat before he remembered to bite it down, to hush it back, and instead it came out as a muffled moan.

Hermione cried out quite loudly, quivering with release. Her body trembling when he thrust into her a final time. He felt himself quake with his own climax and he buried his face into her neck. His heartbeat and sound of his blood rushing through his veins thundered in his ears as he rolled off of her.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Hey, just wanted to thank you for the reviews :) Sorry for the awkward sex scene, I didn't want their first time to be entirely too comfortable. Next chapter will be the aftermath of this and then maybe a little more things between them ;)  
><em>**


	7. The Aftermath

Fuck it all to Hell.

There was nothing like waking up and realizing that last night _hadn't _been a dream—no, scratch that—a nightmare. A nightmare that he was actually fucking Hermione Granger and enjoying it.

He slipped out of bed, gathering his clothes and putting them on. He walked away from her, fighting the urge to look back, to savor what she'd look like laying under the covers, naked, the sunlight spilling over her. He didn't though.

When he reached the opposite side of the apartment, he stopped, realizing there was no where left to go. Sinking to the floor, head in his hands, Draco's fingers began drumming a careful rhythm against his against his head. For all his futile efforts to rid himself of thoughts of her, he seemed to have already lost himself in whatever thoughts plagued his mind. He still held the remembrance in his head, replaying the scenes from last night over and over.

One piece of him yearned to listen to touch her again, to feel what he felt last night, but the other piece of him recoiled at the thought, the blasphemous insinuation that he could actually want a mudblood.

Draco had already lost the battle, eyes fluttering in defeat as he stood up and went to take a shower.

* * *

><p>Hermione's eyes flew open as she heard the shower turn on. She was naked and alone in bed, she glanced over at the empty spot next to her, pondering idly if he had slept next to her all night.<p>

Last night, she had made the infamous Draco Malfoy moan, she smiled a little at the small victory. She wondered, briefly, if he was always that gentle with every one of his lovers, but she reconsidered. No, he wouldn't be.

She didn't think about how she was unclean in the minds of the society that he was born into, that she was tainted; instead she thought of how it was him that took away her virginity and that she didn't regret one bit. And it was him who would never know the latter. She wished she could tell him she was sorry, but she was not. Maybe he didn't regret it either. But no, she knew he would. She pulled on a pair of pajamas, fully meaning on falling back to sleep after she had a quick read. Searching quickly through her belongings, she found_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and she shuffled out of the bedroom and into the living room. Opening up the old book that she hadn't touched since the War, she saw Draco enter the living room out of the corner of her eye.

He was leaning against the door-frame, shirtless, damp from his shower, his pants riding low on his hips, a cup of butterbeer in one hand. She turned to face him. "Hello, Draco."

* * *

><p>Draco headed out to the living room, he spotted Hermione sitting on the couch, legs crossed, leaning over an old, dusty book, the pages looked delicate under her lingering fingers. Smirking to himself, Draco shuffled quietly over to the kitchen and got himself a mug of butterbeer. Walking back to the living room, he leaned against the door-frame and cradled his cup of butterbeer in one hand while he watched Hermione flip through the book, disheveled and intent on reading something; one foot was tucked up beneath her while the other dangled, just over the floor, and the dark golden frizzing spill of her hair, tumbled wildly over her shoulder. He wondered if she saw him, if past that film over her eyes she has noticed his movement. At least his presence.<p>

As if suddenly aware of him being in the room, Hermione looked up. "Hello, Draco," She said calmly, not happy to seem him or irritated about seeing him. His eyes moved up to her face and she laid the book aside, crossing her arms. As she shifted, her button down shirt gaped wide, revealing the full curve of one breast; his mouth went dry and he took a large gulp of butterbeer.

"Couldn't sleep, either?" The bookworm inquired, mouth quirking.

Draco shrugged. "What's that your reading?" he said mildly.

"Oh, uh, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_, I've read it before but I'm reading it again." She told him. The living room window was open, curtains thrown back to reveal the endless sky, fat, lazy and infinitely gorgeous, the mid-day sun hanging in the sky.

He went over to the window, setting the butterbeer down on the coffee table as he went, and leaned his hip against the sill; Hermione watched him curiously all the way, her gaze burning down his spine, before getting up to join him.

"What?" He asked her as she looked at him instead of the sky, and Draco looked down to see the breeze lifting the edges of her curls. One sleeve of her shirt had slipped down her arm, leaving her smooth shoulder and collarbone bare to the air.

"Nothing. It's just..." She shook her curls. "I haven't really watched the clouds in a while and seeing you watching it...erm..."

"What?" He repeated when she trailed off, aggravation rising through him.

"Nothing. It's just odd for me to see someone like you watching something like this. I never pictured you doing that."

"I'm not allowed to looked out of the window?" He rolled his eyes.

Her eyes left him and she turned to look out of the window, her profile outlined by the slowly rising sun. "No, I didn't mean..."

His eyes drifted along the line of her jaw and down to the nape of her neck; she turned and looked up at him from under her lashes.

Now it was her turn to question him, "Yes?" She asked.

"Nothing."

He moved close, eyes roaming as though she were a new toy he couldn't wait to play with. Draco let his hand go up along the curve of the back of her neck, and he kissed her fiercely.

Her lips opened in surprise and he slid a finger down the cleft between her breasts and pried apart the buttons till it was entirely open, exposing her bare breasts that laid beneath, and he slipped it off her shoulders. Hermione's breath hitched into his mouth, a sound which stoked his sparks of desire into a full flame.

She laid a light hand on his shoulder to balance herself as he tugged on her pajama bottoms until they fell around her ankles and she stepped out of the pants, wearing nothing now. Her fingers craving to rid him of whatever other pesky fabrics that separated their bodies.

Malfoy lifted her up onto his body, her legs wrapped around his waist to keep herself up, one of his hands was behind her knee, the other gripped around her torso. He backed them up and her back hit the wall as she tugged at the front of his trousers and they finally slid down his body and he stepped out of them. Draco lifted the hand behind her knee and traced it up the inside of her thigh, languorously slow, her skin shivering under his touch.

Draco lowered his mouth to her jaw, her neck, her breast, gripping her hip with iron-hard fingers. He bit down lightly on her neck, imprinting his teeth onto her flesh, leaving a mark; he was rewarded with the sort of moan that made his body shiver. Hermione hands found his boxers and shoved them down.

He spun them around and they landed on the couch, the soft fabric softening the blow. Draco slid himself into Hermione and she choked on a moan, clawing one hand through his hair, lifting her foot to dig her heels into his lower back, her hands gripping,white-knuckled, at his shoulders.

He thrust again and she gasped and threw her head back, throat arched, eyes fluttering shut. Malfoy rocked his hips and her whole body jerked around him, biting hard at her lower lip. She moaned and kissed his neck, rough and desperate, teeth scraping across the tender skin of his throat.

When she pulled away her eyes were wild, her cheeks flushed. He moved in a purposeful pattern that he knew would drive her closer to the edge, moving in deeper and he half-strangled on a ragged moan as he moved in her, feeling her whole body pushing back against him.

There was a flutter of anticipation that persistently tugged at his desire and he quickened his pace, digging their bodies deeper into the couch and she cried out in pleasure.

And then, like a wave, it broke over them, they both reached their climax with a loud moan. He thrust once more, moving deeper than before and her hips lifted and her legs held him against her until it was done.

As soon as he pulled out, he heard Hermione stifle a moan. Were she not unable to move and worn down, she might've tried for another go. Maybe, if she had another in her. Yet, she had noticed that Draco was a very thorough lover, ensuring that neither were left wanting. His arms gave way and he collapsed on top of her, their breath quick and harsh. Regaining his strength, he braced himself upward to look down at her.

"Would Weasel or Potter be this good to you?" Draco sneered, but a smirk crossed his lips.

She made an exasperated noise. "You're an ass."

He shrugged and got to his feet, finding and pulling on his clothes. And when he looked back at Hermione the sun had suddenly caught like fire in her hair, turning it to a curling blaze of red and gold to find her already looking at him.

"What?" He asked in almost a grunt through the rasp in his throat.

"Nothing, I just didn't expect do that...again, so soon." She blushed as she too got up and pulled on her clothes.

He sneered at her, "Don't over-think things."

She gave him a look of indifference and then turned away from him.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat at the table in the kitchen, rubbing at her temples. She heard Draco enter the kitchen and she looked up at him. He was holding the butterbeer that he hadn't finished earlier and he had put on a shirt.<p>

"Must you really drink this early?" She groaned, eying the the drink as if she wanted to slap it away.

"It's not that early, and don't tell me what to do, Granger," Draco scowled, finishing what was left in the mug with a challenging look in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes and went over to the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of green liqueur. The sound of a bottle snapping open, a barely audible scraping as his finger pulls one out against the side, drew his attention to her.

"If you're going to drink this at this time, you should at least try this."

He plopped ungracefully into the chair across from her. She pulled a glass out of a cabinet and poured the green substance into it. She set the glass down on the table in front of him with a thud, and he eyed the oddly-tinted liquid suspiciously.

His body recoiled out of instinct, and his expression soured. "If you think I'm taking one sodding sip of that, Salazar help me, I will—"

"Relax, Draco. It's not poison," Hermione assured him. "It's Midori."

"What in the name of Merlin is—"

"It's a melon liqueur with a sweet, fruity taste, I bought it recently and—"

"You mean, it's a muggle drink. And it looks fucking disgusting—"

"Don't be dramatic, Malfoy, it looks like colored water," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes at his prejudice. "Don't tell me I wasted my money on—"

"How do I know that you didn't drug it? An easy way out of this marriage, a way to inherit the Malfoy fortune—"

"Just grow a pair and drink." With that having been said, she waited for him to stop his complaining and try it.

With a scoff, and a sneer, he picked up the glass and gives it a swirl, the contents sloshing towards the edge of the glass as he took a swig. One swallow, though it was quite a sizable one, was all he did before he pulled it away and smacks his lips, lips twisting downwards, "This is disgusting, Granger," he coughed, but after another moment past he lifted it to his lips and drank it again.

She raised her brows in a practiced expression of supreme apathy. "Doesn't look like you hate it to me?" she replied in matter-of-fact voice, waiting only a few moments before he angrily brought the drink up to his lips.

* * *

><p>Draco had announced that he was going to sleep on the couch tonight instead of being in the bed with her. He went to the living room and with a wave of his wand the couch had transformed into a king-sized bed, complete with dark green bed sheets.<p>

He was allowed only an hour or two of sleep before he was awoken. Salazar knew he needed all the rest he could get but his mind didn't want to stop chattering plus there was another presence in the room now.

"What d'you want?" His words were slurred with sleep as he looked up at her.

Granger was frozen next to his bed, a statue in the dark as the clock struck midnight and the noisy chatter of crickets outside was the only sound. She had a robe clutched around her body. A ragged inhale pierced the silence and Draco watched her expectantly, and she muttered, "I…I can't sleep."

"My mind just keeps going and going and…" Lips locked tight, biting back any other explanations.

With a pause of understanding, Draco reluctantly shifted over in the bed. Hoping that this was another nightmare of his and he wasn't actually going to let Granger sleep in his bed.

She stared down at her hands and he laid herself across her bed, head sinking onto the feathery pillow. She looked over at him briefly and for a moment she regarded him with a fondness, tired and knowing that he too was struggling with sleep and maybe they could tackle the problem together.

Draco opened his mouth to ask her what she was staring at when he realized that she had shut her eyes now. Her breathing slowing as she began to sink into sleep's comforting arms.

Draco laid awake in the dark, listening to Hermione breathe beside him, small puffs of breath, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her golden hair fanned across his pillow and her pale legs tangled around the sheets.

A unique feeling filled him that he was sure he had never felt toward Hermione before. Okay, maybe Draco Malfoy was not a complete stranger to this sensation. They were really more like passing acquaintances. But there it was again now. This feeling was the polar opposite of what he should feel toward her. He had always thought if he never admitted to this particular feeling that it would leave. But anyway, the point was that he'd felt it before.

There had always been girls. He knew what he wanted from them, and he had his way with them. What made her any different?

He pushed the thought away or tried to at least. But there it was. But for now it would have to remain unnamed. If he had identified it with a name, then it would be all too true, too real, because fuck it all Draco Malfoy was not in love with Hermione Granger. He cursed himself, but her body was near his, and he was thankful that he could not think of a truly logical thought to sum up the feeling.

All this realization was contained in but a breath. A strangled groan as she backed up into him.

And before he knew it, he found himself thinking about many more things, how there's no ending to this that he could foresee as a happy one. But Merlin help him he wanted a happy ending just for once. It was an obsession bred into him; as hard as he tried he couldn't recall a time when he wasn't yearning, when he wasn't fixated on something, maybe that's what started all this, it was his natural reaction to make her the thing desired. But he's Draco Malfoy and he knew enough by now that he always got what he wanted. But then again that was his old life, and maybe it was just the opposite in this new life. Maybe he could never get what he wanted. And it hurt. Maybe he deserved the pain.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Here's chapter 6, I thought I'd update it rather quickly because the next chapter might take a bit longer. Thanks a bunch for the reviews :D  
><em>**


	8. The Jealousy

The sun had barely risen, and it cast a pale glow against the bed, growing brighter and hotter as the moments pass and bathed them in their smoldering light. Wondering how she could sneak out of the bed before Draco awoke and yelled at her for trespassing into his bed.

Hermione could feel his breathing tickling the back of her neck before she ever felt his arms, strong, encircling her. One of his arms stretched the curve of her back, and resting on her torso while the other trapped between her side and the mattress. His breathing was low, steady, and for a moment her lungs ached as she held her breath to listen to his. The way his arm curved around her back, holding her to him with the mystery of his touch, lips centimeters from her hair so that the breath ruffled it. She could hardly believe this was the same bastard who hated her so passionately.

What had she done? Had she fallen victim to his charm?

Practiced at silence, at the art of going unnoticed, she moved like air between his arms, pulling heavily from the covers, walking silently until she was out of the room.

Yet still he awoke when her presence left the room, the ghost of her form filling the emptiness of the bed, the hollows of his arms, and he finds the beat of his breath out of sync, expecting an echo against his chest.

Draco fully intended on forgetting all of yesterday and last night's events, planned to block out the memory of Hermione's touch. He would erase it completely without lingering echoes or deja vu, despite the possibility, or fact rather, that his actions had led him inexorably to this moment, to this feeling. He tried to tamper down the word _love, _but it sat there in the corner of his mind.

* * *

><p>After she had showered, she went deliberately into the kitchen because she knew that Malfoy didn't like to eat until later on in the day. She quickly fixed herself some breakfast and plopped down into the chair. She ate a few forkfuls but she couldn't stomach another bite. She stared at the fork in her hand with listless eyes, an inattentiveness that usually was never part of her persona.<p>

"You just gonna sit there all day?" An annoyed voice commented and Hermione looked up, jumping a little.

Draco had, once again, barged into the room without announcing himself.

She didn't respond, pushing food around on her plate with a painful deftness, she didn't know how to approach him on anything. Did he hate her because of yesterday's events?

He sat down in the chair across from her and regarded her coolly. Her fingers fiddled nervously, not noticing the awkwardness of her motions until her eyes flicked up to Draco who was watching her with a scowl._ He does hate me, _She concluded._ It was unfair of him to do this, to pick a fight when she was distracted_.

"Listen, Draco, whatever I did-"

A scoff, the screech of chair legs against the floor and he was up and across the room. "Sod off."

Pushing away the half-eaten plate, she stood and followed Draco out of the room. "Draco, wait. I only wanted to thank you," Hermione murmured. "For allowing me to sleep in your bed, I know it was rude of me to intrude and-"

"Granger, what the fuck are you talking about?" He asked blankly.

"Draco, remember last night," She enunciated each word clearly. "I-"

"It doesn't matter."

"You know what, I can't deal with your mood swings and-"

"You think I give a damn about what you can and can't deal with, Granger?" Every word sounded so brow-beaten, so gruff, but she felt their falsehood ringing in the air.

"I think you do."

"You don't know me, so don't pretend to."

He slammed the door shut as soon as Hermione opened her mouth, desperately looking for something to say, leaving the room deadly silent and painfully empty.

* * *

><p>After pacing around the living room for a half hour, she decided to meet up with Ron for a cup of tea. She needed some normality in her life again, and seeing one of her best friends should bring some of that, she hoped. The conversation had started out smooth, she was laughing and smiling with him, but the second he brought up Malfoy, it all came tumbling down. He started going on about how he felt bad for her, having to live with a git like Malfoy.<p>

"He's not so bad actually, other than this morning."

"Come off it," Ron scoffed. "You sure he didn't slip a potion into your morning pumpkin juice?"

"Ronald," She groaned. "Draco-"

"So you two are on a first name basis then?"

"Stop it, Ron," She hissed. "He's as bad as you think-"

"Why're you defending him?"

"It's just," She struggled for words, "You don't know him like I do."

"What? All of a sudden you're the best of mates with him?"

"No, but, he's changed," Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione, there's no way that Malfoy just upped and changed all of a sudden," Ron shook his head. "And now you're acting like this-"

"And why are you acting like _this_?" Hermione said with a harshness that belied her affection for him.

"Come on, Hermione, he's been a git to us our entire lives."

"There's more to him than that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.

Hermione didn't move. She sat still, breathing slowly, fiddling with her fingers again.

"It means that I might love him, Ron."_  
><em>

Ron sat there, his mouth slightly gaping, he didn't know how to reply to that.

"You wanna know something else, Ron?" continued Hermione, her eyes wide. "I could have walked away from this marriage, I have enough pull with the Ministry, they owe us that much. I could have, but I didn't, because on some level, some deranged level, I didn't _want _to. I wanted to see if I could fix him, I wanted to know that Draco would be safe." Hermione was out of breath when she finished.

* * *

><p>Draco didn't know if she had bewitched him or if he was just losing his mind, but there was no way in the name of Salazar that he had just followed Hermione Granger out of jealousy.<p>

No.

There was no way on Merlin's grave that he would done that.

But for some odd reason, he had.

He had followed her down to that bloody awful little muggle shop and watched as she drank and smiled with _Weasley_. He couldn't force himself to interrupt though, because that would entail that Granger found out that he had followed her.

He felt nauseated by his own actions. She had gotten under his skin. Draco had grown accustomed to a life devoid of feeling and vigor. So it was only natural that when he fell for Hermione, this new feeling had thrown him into a whirlwind.

He blamed her _entirely_.

His thought process was interrupted as the front door opened and Granger waltzed in, her hair windblown. The mechanical rise and fall of her lungs pushing air out was the only sound in the room and it served to snag his attention for a moment or two before he stepped out in front of her.

"Enjoy your date, Granger?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise, "I-you followed me?"

He sneered. "No, I-"

"You did," She nodded, and he hated himself for noting the way her curls bobbed with her head. "You know what, Draco, I don't know what your problem is today but-"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, or I-"

"You'll what? Draco, you wouldn't hurt me."

"Want to test that theory?"

"If you hate me so much, why did you sleep me yesterday? Why did you let me stay in your bed?"

The rush of memories came as the words passed between her lips, licking sweetly at the crevices in his brain as he recalled the history of the past day. He pushed away the images and scowled.

"And you don't hate me either." His words weren't a question, they were a statement.

"What?"

"Admit it, Granger, I know you don't hate me."

Her mouth opened a little: _true. _"I...no, I don't hate you. Although you've given me every reason to, I don't." For once, Hermione was appearing completely black and white, instead of the abstract piece of art she normally was.

His eyes, the black that tinged his gray with worry, jealousy flickered to something else. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He went silent, his mouth drifting open, while words unsaid tumble fruitlessly towards the ground.

"Why did you follow me?"

It struck him, with a wallop, that he had followed her to be assured that it wasn't necessary for him to follow her. That he needn't feel that at as soon as they were allowed to divorce, she would run straight to Weaselbee. In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have said anything about her meeting with Ronald Weasley at all. But it was too late to go back, and**  
><strong>

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted to compose himself, he tried to think of a witty retort to explain his behavior and was met with nothing.

"I'm going to bed now, Hermione," He ground out and stormed out of the room. As he shut the bedroom door he realized exactly what he had just done, the unfamiliar taste of her first name still lingering in his mouth.

* * *

><p>The bedroom was oppressively dark and still as he waited, fingers twitching against his lap. He had no idea exactly what he was waiting for? Maybe he was hoping that Hermione would come into the bedroom and snuggle up next to him again.<p>

His hands find their way to his wand that was on the bedside table, and he tapped on it absentmindedly, he picked it up and flicked it aimlessly through the air, before he remembered that a spell was meant to accompany the motion. But what spell could he cast that would cause Hermione to want to come see him. What reason would she even have to come see him after he'd acted like an ass toward her?

He had a difficult time accepting that he was actually falling for Hermione Granger; in any case, he still wished that she would walk through the door with the same words 'I can't sleep' murmured before she slipped into bed with him.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. The air in the room smelled like Hermione's perfume and solitude. His grip on the wand loosened slightly.

He waited for sleep to come and maybe he could get some peace from his thoughts, still flicking his wand. The room was like a box around him, painstakingly in a fleeting moment, he wondered if these thoughts would ever stop, his obsession that was pushing toward an addiction.

The idea that Hermione might sleep with him ever again was deranged at best, tapping the fingertip of his thumb irritably against the wand. His pajamas had begun to itch, the room felt cramped, and the heavy elegant curtains around bed were meant to comfort and provide meditation but they did not. This was not meditation: this was Purgatory, if anything.

He glanced at the clock, 2:00 am, he had been laying here for an hour and a half. Nearly two hours, punctuated by nothing but the banality of his thoughts.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in a while, school and work and everything hasn't given me a lot of free time to write. I don't really like this one but here's chapter 8. Messing with Draco's mind is just too much fun on my part, but I wanted to show a bit of Hermione's struggle too. I promise that in the next chapter, Draco won't be holding so much back anymore ;)**  
><em>


	9. The Confession

Draco awoke with a start, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He shuffled out of the bedroom and flickered his eyes over to the couch where Hermione was still asleep.

He wished he could understand this...fascination his had with her. He stood just a little further back from behind the couch and listened to the steady sound of her breathing. Maybe if he got a bit closer, just a quick glance at her sleeping then maybe he could get some sleep himself. He began to inch forward when something stopped him.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice called from where she laid on the couch, he froze where he stood but he didn't see her sit up, she was probably just lying there, straining to hear if he was in the room. He moved just the slightest, but he didn't think she would be able to see him. The room was dark, black upon black, the sun hadn't even begun to rise as it was about four in the morning.

He could hear her sigh. "Draco, I can hear you in here. Can you turn on the light?" She said, and she sat up, swiveling her head in his general direction, coaxing the stubbornness out of him and he turned on the light.

She swung her legs around so that they touched the floor and got to her feet. She studied Malfoy for a moment. His face was tired, withdrawn, a pulsating energy lacking where it usually glowed.

"Draco," she groaned as her fingers attempt to flatten her sleep-mussed hair. "Did you even get any sleep?" How feeble. As if she even cared.

Draco scoffed. "Does it matter?" How resolute.

"Have even slept at all lately?"

__Other than yesterday, no.__ "It doesn't matter."

Without his permission, she rounded the couch and caught his face in her hands, holding him steady while she evaluated him. He contemplated yelling at her and pushing her away, and saying that he didn't give her permission to assault him like this. Like she ever needs permission.

Her eyes scanned over the dark crescents under his eyes and she hovered even closer to him, her body a few inches away from his own and then he was kidnapped, stolen from his self-inflicted misery and focused on the present.

With a small, pitying smile she shook her head. "Draco, I took a class at Hogwarts on health and being a healer, and—"

"That's not surprising at all."

She scowled briefly. "Sleep deprivation isn't good, and if you haven't been sleeping for weeks, it can lead to anger, depression, anxiety, blurred vision, irritability and a lot more—"

"That's interesting, Professor Granger," He snorted.

"I don't want to have to deal with you when you're more moody than usual," She pursed her lips. "I'll have to do something about this."

The sigh that left her lips brushed past his chin, and he shoved back at shiver at the feeling.

* * *

><p>He stood awkwardly against the wall in the bedroom, eyes fixed on nothing. Something in the way the air moved around to let her pass, alerted him to her presence. Perhaps he simply recognized the sound of her breathing, the light scent of her perfume, but before she could even speak his name, he raised a hand in her direction and she was already there, shoving another vial of sleeping draught into his hands.<p>

For the past hour she had been brewing potions and trying to force him to drink them.

Even though he rebuked her attempts to help, even though he was essentially spitting on her good nature, she still kept coming with her sleeping drafts and her potions. With a hard brow, she had the iron will of a soldier, and she sat back with indifference after casting a disapproving look at his childish behavior.

"Draco, you're going to drink the potion. It's not good to be deprived of sleep."

He still refused to tell her that the only way he could get to sleep lately was if she was laying beside him. "Piss off."

"You can't expect me to sit around and brew you potions all day to help you, or sit by your bedside and ensure that you get to sleep every night."

He looked at her incredulously.

Leave it unsaid that she would, if that were the case, bring him potions and dote on him until he fell asleep against every drop of her better judgment. "I'm not going to do it."

"Do you really, really expect me to drink this?"

"Do what you want, it's your health, but...yes," she replied.

Shooting her an irritated expression, he knocked back the potion and tossed the vial away.

* * *

><p>Hermione had retreated into the living room, and was flipping through some book. Draco swayed slightly from where he stood just beyond the doorway of the bedroom. His infatuation with her wasn't his fault. He firmly believed that. He had been brainwashed, he concluded.<p>

It had been a few days since she though she had solved his sleeping problem but sometimes he would still lay there, wide awake, waiting for thoughts of her to pass. They had just gotten into another fight earlier this morning, and he wanted to hate her, Salazar help him, he did. But Hermione's just so. fucking. irresistible, and Draco almost wanted to die.

And he didn't have anything to do lately. He could probably go out for a drink, or hang out with Blaise, or even Goyle if he dared, but he didn't. He had just been walking around for the past couple of weeks wanting to do stupid things like watch Hermione or argue with her or touch her– that's something that Draco had to keep to himself. But he was slowly learning now that these thoughts had a way of driving him mad if he didn't let them out.

So that was how he found himself entering the living room.

Draco wasn't even concentrating. He was having a fuckload of trouble keeping his mind on what he was supposed to be telling Hermione because, well, Hermione looked great.

"Granger."

She looked at him and raised a questioning brow.

He'd come out to the living room to say it to her, to tell this certain something that he knew he should say. He also knew she would probably reject him. But he had to say it anyway, feeling as if her presence was begging him to divulge the morbid secret that haunted him.

He wished he could dodge around saying it until the day he died, but it had to be said.

"Is there something you wanted, Draco?" She asked impatiently.

Straight to the point, then. He exhaled from the corner of his mouth and watched her pull the shirt over her head. Her brow was relaxed as she regarded him, wisps of hair gleaming faintly in the dim light. He braced himself on the chair. She brushed away the hair from her face, tenderly and she kept his gaze, unwavering determination focused on him, dedicated to him.

He was faintly aware of her, still, frowning and repeating his name, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Why are you here?"

Now or never.

"I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me for a while now. And I think I've finally figured it out."

"Fascinating, Malfoy, but I'm trying to read here, so if this isn't important-"

"I'minlovewithyou," He blurted and he instantly wanted to punch himself in the face. Hard, like Hermione had done in their third year.

Hermione froze. Was he being serious? Did he mean what she thought he meant?

"What?"

"Don't make me say it again."

What did it matter that he loved her, what possible good would that do? How could he have said that to her, have expected her to just smile and say it back, it wasn't that easy.

"Draco, I don't..."

She watched his disappointment unfold in a brief second before he hid it and her heart ached for him. She took a sharp breath in, her fingers tensed and unfurled. What could she say to that? Draco was greeted with silence and he waited for her to say something, anything. The words felt strange coming from his voice and she could not move, could not make sense of the sudden drop of emotions in her belly. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

_ "_You think I want to feel this way?" Her words seemed to reignite the fire in his belly and he had to force down lies that he could never love a mudblood. "I don't _want_ to feel this way! Don't you think I'm trying? I'm trying not to be in love with you, while you sit there, not even admitting—"

She flinched. "Draco, you are being completely, one hundred percent, selfish. All you can do is think of your own feelings," She shook her head. "Why," she continued, "do you assume that _I feel the same_?"

Draco, who had been glaring at her with distaste, had suddenly blanched. He held a breath and slowly began to back toward the door, he had to get out of here, his wounded pride and arrogance lacing the room. He saw her react, her mouth dropping slightly open as he struggled to get away from her.

"Draco, please! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that–"

"If you didn't mean it, you wouldn't have said it," He hissed quietly, finally forcing himself to turn away from her and grip the doorknob in his pale hands. He jerked forward, breaking into a run once the door was open and the hallway loomed out before him. He heard her call to him and start after him, but the sounds of being followed faded as he turned the corner and went straight to the stairs.

* * *

><p>Once on the ground floor, he fled down the entryway, heaving himself against the front door of the apartment, flinging himself into the cold night air. He followed the old dirt path that led to the woods behind the apartment and kept going until he reached the place the over looked the lake.<p>

Draco slouched down onto the soft grass, and took the old Malfoy family ring from his finger and began to twist it around in his hands. He hated to admit it, but Hermione was right. Why _did_ he assume that she returned his feelings? Sure, she had sex with him and teased and kissed him but what if she still hated him and this was all a show for the marriage.

He looked up slightly and he stared out across the lake in silence, ring still clutched in his hand. He'd been hoping to clear his mind of her—get her out of mind for once. Maybe be able to think things through properly, since she always seemed to get in the way of his judgment of what was best. But even staring out over the water, her face seemed engraved into his mind. Even if he closed his eyes, her image was still there. It was hardly fair—especially since she hardly seemed troubled by thoughts of him.

He shook his head softly, as if that would be enough to throw her picture from his head. He'd almost forgotten that he'd wanted her to follow him—go after him and say to his face that she hated him. It was something he needed to hear. Draco needed to know from her that he simply couldn't have her. Maybe then he would finally realize how absolutely stupid he really was.

A small stone clattered to the ground beside him and he glanced up to see who had thrown it. Hermione stood not far from where he sat. His eyes met hers and he resisted the sudden impulse to look away.

"I found you," She said softly.

"How did you know where I was?" he asked, staring straight ahead.

She walked forward a few steps. "You didn't Apparate, so I assumed you wouldn't have gone far," she said, a gentle smile resting on her lips. Hermione finally released a breath she must have been holding and came to stand beside him. She looked down at him and leaned against the wall, breathing haphazardly. "Draco, will you just let me exp—"

"You know, Granger, I really don't feel like talking to you right now," He snapped, cutting her off. Still, he refused to look up and give her the satisfaction of seeing his eyes.

"Draco," She murmured. "Don't tell me I ran across half way through the woods looking for you on this cold night for nothing?"

He gave an stiff nod. Using a nearby tree as a support, she pressed her back to it and slid down to a sitting position, legs straight in front of her. She rested her hands in her lap and seemed to stare at them for a moment, before speaking.

"Draco, will you let me explain?" And then there it was again. That horrid nervousness, the uncertainty she was feeling that should have passed long ago like rain moving with the winds to give way to clearer skies, but it seemed she was perpetually lost in the fog of her feelings for Draco. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that the answer to all of her problems would rise into her mind.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, she met his eyes and he held his breath. This was the part where she looked at him and told him right then and there that she didn't care about him at all, that he was the same sadistic bastard that he'd always been. This was where she told him that he was just she was just following the law, and that's all this ever could be.

"I…I didn't mean it. I truly didn't, Draco."

He blinked, almost wishing that she _had_ meant it. "Why did you say it then?"

Hermione looked away from him. "I guess…I was just upset. It seems like you always think that I don't feel anything back and when you do think that I feel things back you think I'm okay with this all. You should _know_ that I'm struggling, too. I suppose I've just been hiding it well. And_ this_, well, it scares me. I-I wanted to make you believe that I didn't care. I thought that this was nothing more than just a law to follow," Hermione took another breath. "But when I said it, I saw your face. I wanted to take it back—I wanted to make it go away. I know that it may not always seem like it, but my intention has _never_ been to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Hermione let out the remainder of her breath in a long exhale before she looked at him again. Everything she'd just said—it was the _last_ thing he wanted to hear. He didn't want to know that she cared about him. He didn't want a reason to keep wanting her. But she'd meant it.

Without looking up, he spoke, softly but forcefully. "Father thinks that love has no place in this marriage. That to love someone lower than you, would be to lower yourself, to taint yourself. To be made weak, flexible by your inferior when you should be strong, unbreakable," He muttered bitterly.

He felt her hand on his arm, and though he didn't want to, he looked to her, a soft frown on her face. "Draco," she said gently.

"I have something to say."

"I…I'm sorry." The words were almost incredulous, spoken with the hurt pride of a man who had thought himself more than that.

"What?"

"I said..." He sighed heavily, almost irritated that he had to say the words twice. "I'm sorry. For everything."

She visibly stiffened. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"I mean… for all of this. For allowing you to be tortured by my aunt, for taunting you. Things were different but now...I shouldn't…I shouldn't _want_ you. Not like this."

"Draco…" Hermione's voice was quivering unevenly. "Don't. Don't be ashamed of anything. Please don't." Her voice lowered almost a plea. "I don't want to know that it hurts you. _I_ don't want to hurt you."

Draco's eyes widened a bit. Draco wasn't exactly the type who knew how to be in touch with his feelings so well that he knew the best reply to her words. So instead, he said the only thing he could think of.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, Granger."

A tiny smile that he could not see, uncertain and flickering, belied her reassurance, and she wished for a moment that she could believe that was true.


	10. The Taste

They didn't turn on the lights when they reached the flat again, stumbling into darkness, finding their footing as they marched toward Draco's room. He muttered a quick spell to turn on the lights as he plopped down on the bed.

She was staring at him from where she stood in the doorway, with those large, expressive eyes of hers. "I do love you, Draco, you know that right?"

The air had grown tangible with silence, and then he looked at her and parted his lips, drawing in a long breath before he replied. "I know."

One hand on resting on the door-frame, she turned to leave. A hand on her wrist stopped her, she faced Draco to see that he gotten off of the bed and grabbed her to halt her leaving.

"Don't," Draco murmured, "Stay here."

The fact that Draco-the-Great had just poured out his feelings to her and he was now asking her to sleep here with him would have seemed impossible if she hadn't heard it all. Hermione was nearly tempted to interrogate him to make sure he was not just taunting her. But no; not when he was looking like this—brittle—and not when he had hated the solitude of sleeping without her there, and not when he was looking at her like that. There was something dark in his look—something not for public eyes-and in the base of her stomach, something stirred.

"I'll stay," She replied.

"Good."

His thumb moved in a circle against her wrist, slipping beneath the sleeve. "I'm glad we finally discussed things tonight."

"There's one thing we didn't talk about."

"What?"

"Weasel."

She sighed. "Draco, don't be silly, he's just my friend."

"Just...curious."

He trailed a finger up her arm, across her shoulder and up her neck until he reached the curve of her cheek.

His other hand skimmed her collarbone and Hermione shivered at the sensation. Draco leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips—something stronger than a mere peck, lips lingering near after he had pulled back a bit.

He had tilted her face to closer to his, his lips in the air hover just before hers for a maddening moment before she sealed the space between them. Pushing aside all other thought but him, the tender pressure of fleeting kisses slowly giving way to something much more wet, much headier. His hands were expansive and eager against her torso, teasing at the hem of the shirt before pulling the article of clothing off of her body. He lifted her up into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, they collapsed onto the bed, and she braced a hand against his neck, his knee parting her thighs.

His mouth traced down the line of her jaw, the soft curve of her neck. Her bra was discarded quickly and Draco's hands found her breasts. His fingers traced an impossibly light path over the exposed skin on her chest. Finding her inner balance, she drew herself up toward his touch.

She watched him carefully, as if to assure herself that he wanted this too. But there was no regret or hatred in his face, in his eyes. Only a deep and swallowing hungriness that matched her own.

Her hands tugged his shirt off, nails raked their way down his bared muscles. His deft fingers quickly undid her pants and in one swift move, he removed them and her panties.

She conquered the zipper and button to his breeches, pulling them off before Draco took over and removed his boxers. Her cheeks flushed, eyes went half-lidded, and she swayed against him. He felt her warm, curved body writhing beneath him and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he pressed into her, hearing the gaspy moans she emitted when he did so.

He moved tortuously slowly and she bit back a whimper, tucked her head into the side of his neck. He was taunting her, she could tell.

She rocked her hips and used her legs to draw him deeper. Draco gave a sharp intake of breath and pressed her knees to his hips. Her lean fingers played gently his shoulders and chest, softly at first, until she realized the faster her hands moved, the faster her moved, building a rhythm within her. His body moved over hers, she could feel a primal desire rise from within her chest and the sound she made was trembling with need. Each of their indrawn breaths punctuated with a thrust.

She could hear him as he murmured words guttural and unchosen, and she clenched her fingers into the sheets beneath her. She felt him breathe against her neck, his hands strong and heated against her body.

It was as if she was programmed to respond to whatever moves he made. To kiss him, to feel his weight bearing her down, and his hand guiding the touch on her skin, it felt as if she was made to reciprocate them.

"Hermione," Her name tumbling from his lips, half out of breath.

She knew that no other man could ever give her this, this perfection of two halves coming together like a zipper into a whole. And to Hermione, in this moment, the world _wasn't_ her friends, or books, or school, or the war; the world was thousand little lights flickering in the distance. The world was Draco and his hands.

They moved together, eyes locking as they fell over the edge, Draco with a soft moan and Hermione with a sharp keen cry. She came back to herself, drifting down into her body again, her hair tousled, her eyes dulled with pleasure she focused on him, her body slack and satisfied in his arms.

For all that they held on their shoulders, the shared weight of loss and guilt—she looked at him and knew that he loved her back-none of that mattered to her, and she swallowed her heart from where it had jumped up in her throat.

* * *

><p>Draco awoke, pulling up from where he was drowning in pillows and soft sheets. He hesitated a moment before looking beside him, sure that last night was a dream, but Hermione was there. Draco could feel astonishment coming off of himself like heat.<p>

He could hear the rain strike the pavement outside with a clash, filtering through the haze of last night. Dazed, he drew a hand up to his face to wipe away any remnants of sleep before looking back over to the witch sleeping next to him.

He could see Hermione more clearly now, for all she had given and those she had saved, and he knew didn't deserve her love. She would give herself-and had-without hesitation but with a fervency to the causes of others, and as much as that contributed to what he felt for her, he found himself feeling sick at the fact that he wasn't worth any of piece of her.

And in this moment, he wished, sincerely, that he were a better person. If Draco were anything like her, the only thing he felt he would be guilty of was having too much cleverness, being selfless, being too amiable, and too brave. He wished that he could pick apart at Hermione's flaws, he knew that the mean streak in him would even take pleasure in doing so but the fact of the matter was—Hermione was a perfectly lovely person. And as Draco had come to realize, he was not.

* * *

><p>Ginny and Hermione met up for lunch, the silence hanging in the air between them before Ginny broke it, rambling on about how things between Pansy and Ron had gotten slightly better, and that things with her and Harry were brilliant.<p>

But when Ginny asked about things with her and Draco, she found all of her insecurities tumbling out. "What if our differences outweigh our love? What if this is all wrong? What if we're moving too fast? What if I'm just infatuated? What if he's not serious about this?—"

This unending stream of questions poured from her lips and Ginny was momentarily frozen, caught in the headlights of this new Hermione, the woman who was now seeking advice instead of giving it, and her eyes took a moment to meet her friend's.

"Hermione, listen, he said he loved you didn't he?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do you love him?"

The doubt lifted from Hermione's eyes and was replaced by blinding adoration she had never expressed before while talking about the Slytherin. But Hermione thought of him and what they share, and she replied almost without thought, "Of course."

Ginny smiled, lifting her eyebrows at the other witch. "See? There's your answer." Ginny had never seen a love like Draco and Hermione's, never seen the hatred and difference that each contributed to, blossom into something it with affectionate and strong.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN_**: **_This was a short one but I promise the next one will be longer :) Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming please :)_**


	11. The Emptiness

Draco plopped down beside Hermione at the small table the next morning. She glanced over at him from where she was opening the kitchens curtains to let in the sunlight and smiled, "Good Morning, Draco."

He winced at the sudden light and rubbed at his eyes. "Merlin, Granger, must you be so peppy in the mornings?"

"It's not a crime to be a generally happy person."

Draco shook his head and muttered. "_Gryffindors_." He smirked at her and nodded toward the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. "Toss me some breakfast."

Hermione tossed a green apple in his direction and he caught it, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "I hate apples."

"What? No, I've seen you eat them before."

"That taste died out after I left Hogwarts," Draco said while throwing the apple into the trash.

"Alright, then, find something else to eat, I'm actually going out."

"Alone?"

"No, I'm meeting up with Harry and Ginny," Hermione shrugged, gathering up her purse and jacket.

"Did you want me to come?"

She smiled slowly, he actually wanted to come. "No, it's okay, Draco." She leaned down and kissed him. "I'll be back later."

Hermione opened the door to their apartment slowly, slipping out into the hallway silently. She had lied to him when she was told him where she was heading to. Actually, the ministry had sent a letter the previous day about all witches going to the healers for pregnancy tests.

She hadn't told Malfoy.

In retrospect, she probably should have but she wanted to find out first before telling him anything. She could've surprised him with the news if she was pregnant. She imagined that he would envelope her in a warm hug and mutter that he hoped it was a boy.

* * *

><p>She had not been expected this—hoping—but not expecting it so early on. Hermione had left the healers with a bright smile on her face; she was pregnant, a few weeks along they'd said. She reached the apartment and unlocked the door, and entering the apartment only to find it absent of any signs of life.<p>

"Draco?"

No answer.

She went over to the kitchen counter and set down her bag. On the counter lay the new issue of the Daily Prophet.

A wave of panic rose up within Hermione as she read the title of the front page article. **Marriage Law repealed after a month. **Her chest heaved and fell slowly as her fingers tightened on the counter to support her quivering knees, a tiny painted figure against a background of despair. "Draco?"

She whirled around and marched into the bedroom. Empty. She threw open the wardrobe. Also empty.

Her voice now quivering, she called out again. "Draco!" Her voice rose in pitch, a lump in her throat that simply kept growing and rising, clawing its way to strangle her tongue so she could no longer speak.

Gone. He was gone.

She sank down onto the bed, rigid and alert, she stared into nothing, as if she could make herself a part of it. She knew that they would always fight like mad dogs but they always gave in to each other in the end. When he touched her it seemed to annihilate any sense of control that she had.

She had recognized that he had his insecurities about her and Ron; although he wouldn't readily admit it, he was afraid she would leave him and choose Ron. Hermione knew that Draco had always wanted to be the chosen one, the hero on either side of the wizarding war, and she had chose him, hadn't she? And of course, she knew that Draco wasn't the hero, maybe that was the best because she did not think that a hero or chosen one would fall in love with her.

It just couldn't add up to her that he had left. Now she saw how fickle the bonds between them truly were, Draco didn't believe that she truly loved him, or he wouldn't have left.

Her vision was blurred, tears lining up to fall down her cheeks. She had wanted to believe that Draco wouldn't leave her. Every fiber of her being had needed to know that their love wasn't a lie, that their happiness was real for them both. But that wasn't so.

She let the tears fall, unashamed.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He'd changed, they were supposed to start a life together, to raise their baby. Had she done something wrong? She stared up at the ceiling, counting the tiny cracks and fractures that seem invisible to the eye when you're not paying attention.

She just wanted to sleep away the grief that had hung in her chest. She felt like the ceiling, with fissures and tears leaving her damaged in a way that no one ever saw, invisible to all except for those willing to look long and hard.

Decided that she desperately needed to talk, she picked up her phone. Hermione's hands were shaking as she dialed the number, digits faded on the buttons. She thumbed the send button and raked a hand through her disheveled hair.

One ring was all it took, and her call was answered. "Hey, what's going on? Are you all right?" All Harry heard in return was a shaky breath, a broken "um", and his eyes blink rapidly, predisposed worry coursing through his veins.

"Yeah, I just…needed someone to talk to," she answered, a tremor in her lip invisible to the man on the other end of the line, but she knew he could read her voice as well as any book.

"Do you need me to come over?" His voice was gentle with no hidden malice, and she exhaled the breath she was unaware she had been holding in.

Dead air hung between them for a moment. Give it a few minutes and Harry would be by her side if she asked. "Yes."

* * *

><p>"Hermione."<p>

She needed to look at Harry. She knew she did. He couldn't help her if she wouldn't communicate with him.

"So...he's gone?"

Still, she avoided his gaze as her lips trembled and fingernails dug into her palm. She sighed, wincing at the words. "Yes."

"But...I thought you two were getting along and all that lately."

"We are—or—were. I honestly don't know why he left."

"Hermione, he left you and your unborn child," Harry enunicated each word clearly, brow furrowed.

"Well..." Hermione bit her lip. "I actually haven't told him about the baby yet."

"What?" Harry's eyebrows raised and he sighed. "Are you going to tell Draco about the baby?"

"I might," she said, more tartly than she'd intended.

"'Mione, I don't like Malfoy, you know that," He said, a bitterness on his tongue as he spat out the Slytherin's name. "But I think he should know."

"I'll tell him if I find out where he is or if he ever comes back."

A smile crossed his lips, a sad wave rippling across a weary sea. "For your sake, Hermione, I actually hope he does come back."

* * *

><p>How long had it been now since he'd left her—days, years, weeks? Days. The answer was days. This insufferable timer in his mind refused to shut off, reminded him that when the sun rose and set that another day had passed with the absence of Hermione haunting Draco. He stirred briefly as he sat down in the utter silence.<p>

She had believed the lies that slipped from his tongue then, forcing her to believe he truly did not want her, that her presence was doing more harm than good, but had she seen the agony in his eyes that shined now, she would have called him on his bluff. Draco buried his face in his hands, he refused to regret what he did, but the feeling began to swell in his chest.

He would be the one to snuff her candle out, smoke billowing away as he destroyed her by being with her. After all, she didn't truly want him, she would've realized that as soon as she found out that the law had been repealed. So, he had done away with himself before he could allow himself to be embarrassed by the witch breaking up with him.

But what if he was wrong? What if she did want him and would continue to want him even now? It had never occurred to him. He had grown accustomed to being discarded and never being chosen. The thought was deafening as a chorus, screaming in apex, a resonating distress at the idea that he might be the cause for any kind of pain she would face upon his leaving. How could he live with himself were that the case?

Her face flashed through his mind and it reminded him, killed him, hurt him and haunted him to know that she belonged to no one, not even to him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I'm so so so sorry that I haven't updated in a while, just lots going on in my personal life. Thanks for the reviews, everyone :)Chapter 12 is coming sooner (I hope). (and yes I know wizards do not use phones but I figured since Hermione's parents were muggles she picked up a few things from them)**_

_**Rebecca556-I got it from the song Careful Hands by Sleeping at last :)**_


	12. The Truth

Draco sat up slowly in bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, it had been another sleepless night. He had been cooped up in his room at the new flat he'd rented, avoiding everyone. He had no intentions of ever seeing Hermione again, it would be far too embarrassing. Besides, it wasn't like he was going anywhere anytime soon, he would just lay in bed lately, not moving a muscle. Physical incapability meant nothing, it was the psychological confusion that had been rolling around in his brain since he left her without even a simple explanation. There were times when he would miss Hermione too intensely, precipitously—an inkblot infesting the canvas he had worked so hard to strip clean.

But it was at moments like these when he felt weightless, rising above himself, watching everything down below without ever needing to move a muscle. The inescapable tug of war between his feelings baring down on him. And for a second, Draco believed he saw Hermione's face, her voice, her smile, fading as he opened his eyes.

Ever since he left Hermione, he found that he was addicted to certain things about her. Like her hands, or the way she bit her lip, or even her hair, however curly and big, it was still shiny and it wafted around her head like a curtain, which was an incredibly girly and stupid thing to think but whatever. It was his brain after all, he was allowed to think ridiculous things. So against his better judgement, he would think about her hair and her face and her laughter every chance he got, daring his pride to have a go at him about it.

At the closing of his second week without her, he ended up drinking quite a lot of wine and fire-whiskey to drown out the canon-slam of emotion that hit him square in the chest when he remembered that he had left the woman he loved, and he woke up hungover in the bathroom Sunday morning. It took him half an hour to remember where he was and how gravity worked, and he swore on Salazar's grave that he would never think about the witch again.

But he did anyway.

See, Draco had always, sub-consciously and sometimes consciously, had a thing for Hermione. It was inevitable, really: other than the fact that she was a mudblood—muggle-born, he corrected his thoughts, Hermione was exactly his type, and the minute Draco found out the ministry picked her for his wife he knew he was in trouble. And Hermione had always seemed like a great shag; and although she was an irritating know-it-all, he could admit that she smart, good at her craft, and he shared her feelings that family—although her family was an annoying half-blood who wouldn't die and a ginger weasel—was important. And all of this had made it worse and better at the same time, because after his third year of tormenting her, Draco knew he was way beyond 'trouble', he was even telling her to hide from the death-eaters and staring at her at the Yule Ball. But on the up side at least seeing Hermione at the Yule Ball reminded Draco that his taste in women didn't suck.

_**No.**_

He had to get his thoughts off of her, he had to move on with her life, he was sure she was doing the same. And for three whole days, he tried, he really does; in fact he nearly killed himself trying. He kept a tight rein on himself whenever thoughts of her would surface when he was trying to focus on whatever he was doing. He even began repeating the reasons he left her in the first place, which failed to help him as well.

_Well, fuck_. This was harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>"I'm willing to bet that Blaise knows where Draco's hiding," Lavender said to Hermione, whose nose was buried in a book.<p>

"No."

"I could get him to take you there."

"No."

"Why are you being so bloody difficult?" Lavender whined, crossing her arms.

"I don't want to," She mumbled. "He left me, remember? Why should I be the one to go see him?"

"To remind him what he's missing? To ask why he left you in the first place. To tell him that you're pregnant."

"No," Hermione slammed the book closed. "He doesn't deserve to know. He doesn't—" She stopped mid-thought, considering Lavender's words. "I do deserve to know why he left..."

"Great," Lavender perked up, hoping to get the couple back together. "I'll ask Blaise."

Hermione groaned and collapsed against the couch in Lavender's living room, running a hand over her stomach. "Even if I go to see Malfoy, I'm still not telling him about the baby."

Lavender's shoulders sagged a bit but she shrugged. "You don't have to, you just need an explanation."

**~.~.~**

"We don't even know if he's home," Hermione mumbled to Blaise as she looked up at the apartment building that he had taken her to. " Let's just go."

Blaise shook his head, and grabbed her arm gently, turning her to face him. "No, he's home alright. Way I heard it, no one's seen him leave for weeks."

She lowered her up, hopes that she wouldn't have to go through with this plummeting.

"Look, Hermione, you have to face him. I'm not asking you to take him back, okay? For Salazar's sake, he should be the one who comes back to you with nothing but a stupid apology on his lips. But you deserve to know why he left you."

"Why do you even care?" She asked in a guarded tone, confused at the affection in the Slytherin's voice.

"Because my friend is a wanker," He laughed before heaving a sigh. "And because if I know him as well as I think I do, he left because he didn't want you to leave him first, which makes him a right stupid son of a bitch."

She gave a small weak smile.

Was she willing to see the man she had spent the past two weeks hating? Was it worth it? But when she raised her face and gave Blaise a small nod, he could see in her her tired face, exhausted affirmation.

"Flat 2B," Blaise told her, with a soft pat on her shoulder.

She swallowed hard and continued onward, ignoring the clenching of her chest, the weakness in her steps.

* * *

><p><em>T<em>here was a shuffling of footsteps outside of his front door, and the click of the doorknob twisting open and Draco looked up, hand ready to whip out his wand. Hermione was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, and fists clenched. Exactly when the fuck did Draco take a left turn and fall down a rabbit hole?

"I—" he began, not knowing what to say—how the hell do you explain just up and leaving a person?—but Hermione started moving, coming toward him with a look on her face that Draco had never seen before, not even that time she punched him. It was almost scary, Merlin, it _was_ scary. Except by the time that idea filtered through his haze of shock, Hermione was almost on top of him, and then she really was on top of him, not in the kind of way he wanted her to be either, she was beating at his chest and aiming her knee for his balls but he leaped out of the way just in time for her to miss.

"_I hate you, Malfoy. You arse!_" She huffed, drawing her hand back to slap him before he caught her wrist mid-swing. "How could you? You told me you loved me and all this time—"

"Hermione—" But he was actually glad that Hermione cut him off with a sharp glare because it saved him from making the huge mistake of trying to talk about this, spilling out useless and completely stupid reasons for his leaving.

"Don't even talk," Hermione hissed, "What are you going to say that will change anything anyway? You're just going to ramble about _mudbloods_ and how you'd be a blood-traitor if you stayed with me," She spat the word at him and he suppressed a flinch. "I put up with all of your nonsense for this past month and a half, and after you finally straighten yourself out, you up and leave?"

Draco looked away, trying to think of a reason he could give her for his behavior. Could he lay out his insecurities to her? Tell her that he left because he thought she wouldn't stay with him anyway? This was the girl he had tortured her whole life, the girl he hated, the girl who hated him. No. This was the girl he fell in love with, this was girl who loved him, this was the girl he could trust, the girl who could tell anything to.

"I—I left because I thought you were going to leave me okay?" He blurted the words so fast that he wondered if she even understood what he said.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in disbelief, looking as if she was ready to pounce on him and beat him up. "You're telling me that you left because you were scared that I would leave first."

"I'm not good for you, Granger!" He shouted. "Don't you get it?"

She shook her head. "Draco, I thought you realized..."

He froze, mulling over her words. Thought he realized what? Draco gnawed on his lower lip, unsure of what to say.

Looking down, Hermione was breathing tentatively, "I thought you realized that I was never going to leave you. That I love you, Draco."

He stared at her, shell-shocked. Yes he had known that she loved him but hearing her say it like this was different. "But..what about the law? And Weasley?"

"Ron?" She blinked, baffled. "Ron knows that I love you, he's moving on, Draco, like I moved on from him when I got married to you." She folded her arms and fixed him with a measured look.** "**Did you think that repeal of the law change my mind about wanting to be with you? After all of I've shared with you?"

He was still staring at her, open-mouthed, willing his features to contort themselves independently, to become another person entirely, someone that could make sense of this mess. His heart was jumping wildly in his chest, he wanted to kiss her and tell her that he loved her too, but he didn't know how she'd react. No doubt, she would slap him.

These thoughts raced through his head, none of them explaining what he could do next. Draco moved a step or two closer to her. _Happiness, Joy, Sadness, Anger. _He had experienced it all with the woman in front of him, whenever she would laugh, he would feel buffeted with affection, whenever she was sad, he felt sad.

"Hermione," And then he mumbled something that she didn't quite hear.

"Pardon?"

"I love you, okay?"Draco snapped, he sighed. "I love you."

Hermione watched saw through the harsh lines etched into his face, through to the concern he tried so passionately to hide, and exhaled, eyes falling to the floor in acceptance. Her face turned from his, and a small smile of pain tugs sadly at his lips. With his own dying heart, he began to break hers. Her anger began to fade, and looked at him sadly, attempting a smile that never came. "You can't just have me whenever you want. I can't sit around and worry about you changing your mind one night and just leaving me."

"You won't have to," Draco said steadily, and he considered stopping there, no need to dig his grave further by trying to explain, but he decided to plow on through anyway, in for a penny. "I don't want to feel like I did when I left you ever again. I missed you, alright? I'll admit it, I missed you. You want to know what I did after I left? I spent my time realizing what a git I was, that I can live without but I don't want to," They breathed in together, and somewhere within Draco a hope flickered that this might be a moment. _The moment._"I have invested so much of myself in…in you. And..." Finally, he managed to pluck the phrase he was looking for from the hurricane of his mind and then he said in a voice quite unlike his arrogant, well-spoken tongue. "...I want to marry you." The statement was so casual, so timid, that one might think he had already asked, she had already accepted."Again. Properly. If you want to."

She just stared at him blankly for an excruciating moment. He wished he could dissolve into the earth, feeling suddenly humiliated. He stood frozen underneath her gaze, muscles taut and heart sputtering in anticipation.

Then, a barely heard "yes" and she had pulled him into a hug. Draco gathered Hermione's petite frame into the warmth of his arms, kicking his pride into a dark corner, and slowly he drew back enough for his hesitant lips to kiss hers. Her hands flew up to grasp at the nape of his neck and he weaved his fingers into the comforting weight of her tresses_. _She pulled away reluctantly, eyes searching his face.

"Draco, do us both a favor, and never leave again."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Okay, so I'm really, really, really sorry for not updating for so long. I had writer's block and then I had no time to write and I'm just sorry. But here's chapter 12 and I promise that chapter 13 will be up within the next week or so. :)**  
><em>


	13. The Baby

Hermione smiled when she heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door of the apartment, she recognized Draco's proud stride. They had moved back into the little flat they'd received after the marriage. Her hands ghosted over her stomach that had just begun to swell with the growing baby. Her body ached, and she sometimes had terrible morning sickness, whenever Draco asked about it she would wave it off as a stomach virus.

She got up off of the bed and walked over to him as he came into the bedroom and planted a kiss on her mouth.

"Draco, I have to tell you something," She smiled, drawing his hands into her own and squeezing them lightly. "It's not a bad thing, I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Okay." He elongated the word, eyeing her warily.

"I'm pregnant."

Draco's head begun to spin and his mouth dropped open. Without a word, he gathered Hermione close and squeezed her as gently as possible. There was a moment of _dizzybrightgonnahurl_ followed by _i'mgoingtobeafather _and then he pulled back from Hermione a little.

"I'm going to be a father," He breathed in disbelief.

She beamed at him. "Yes, you are." She kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off of her feet.

"Do you know the gender?"

"The healers say it's a boy."

"A boy?" His mouth crinkled into a wide smile. "Why d'you wait so long to tell me?"

"I was angry with you," Hermione said. "I resented you for leaving me, and I didn't want you to come back and be with me based solely on the fact that we're having a child. I wanted you to be with me again because you wanted me."

* * *

><p>It didn't dawn on him until he calmed the anxiety and rush of joy in his gut that he was <em>really, actually<em> going to be a father. He could barely take care of himself and he had only just started learning to express how he was feeling, how was he supposed to raise a child? Or worse, what if he ended up like his father? Cold, calculating, hateful.

"Draco?"

Her voice broke through his mental-blockade like rays of sun peeking through the drawn shades on a window, and he heard her come up behind him, and he stirred only briefly in acknowledgement of her presence, the sight and smell of her making his heart jump in a way that he'd never fully understand.

She sat next to him in silence, waiting patiently until he was ready to speak.

"I'm going to be like my father," He said, unmoving.

She shook her head at him, no accusations on her tongue. "What makes you say that?"

"Just look at me, Hermione," He hissed. "I'm not going to be a good father."

He felt, Hermione imagined, the near of hysteria of someone only just realizing that after all of their progress and hard work, they still weren't good enough.

Maybe he had no more weaknesses and insecurities than the rest of them harbored, but his seemed so extreme. They were even more pronounced when laid alongside his strengths. They appeared as huge black voids, chunks taken out of an intensely shining star. Neverthelss, Hermione still thought he was all potential. The potential to be great, the potential to be mad, the potential to be a brilliant father, the potential to achieve all three magnificently.

But he seemed stuck in a grainy black-and-white image of the past. Of all the things he had once done or said and how his own childhood had been.

"And why not?" She asked gently.

"I'm a fucking bully, a coward who can't even properly express his emotions, a selfish bastard. What kind of role-model is that? The same bloody one that I had. My father," He clenched his jaw.

All of a sudden Hermione had a firm grip on Malfoy, anchoring him to her words without even speaking yet. "You are way better than you think you are. You're just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself."

His eyes averted from hers awkwardly, and her head followed his descent briefly, hoping to catch a glimpse of his gaze once more, but she didn't.

"Draco, you are nothing like your father. He's not half the man you are," She murmured, trapping his face in between her palms so that he had to look at her.

Hermione was losing him again. She could see the Draco she fell in love with shrinking back and his eyes were growing haunted and dark. Back to his memories where sadness and regret were his only companions.

"I know you hate your past. I know. But you can't...You can't try and get rid of me or the responbility of this baby because of it. The other night you asked me to marry you again and I know you meant it. Doesn't that tell you something about yourself? Show you how very different you are from your father. He would have never done something so brave and true to his own heart.

"I'm sorry that you feel this way, Draco, I am. But you can't sit here and feel sorry for yourself forever. You owe me, and yourself and this baby, more than that."

His fingers tensed and unfurled, and he ran a hand through his pale hair, before looking at her with widened eyes. "You're right, I'm sorry, I just—" He shook his head and then let it fall down onto her shoulder and her fingers stroked down his hair.

The tears in the skin of their relationship had knitted back up, raised and shining in memorandum and she longed for the day she would fail to notice them entirely.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Draco were discussing baby names, seated on the couch in the living room, her legs stretched across his lap, and his joy felt overwhelming. Talking about baby names made this whole experience feel all the more real. Names flew from his lips, one after another, as Hermione shot them down, refined the list into something more acceptable.<p>

"I've got it!" he said, then spouted out something like Harold or Filius or Hydrus, or odd inventions that mixed all three. At her teasing smile, he would back down—boyish, sheepish, temporarily stalled but never defeated.

"I've got it! Scorpius!" He blurted, and Hermione seemed to consider this.

"Scorpius Malfoy," She hummed, "It does have a ring to it. Alright, but I get to pick the middle name."

He smirked at her, success at last. He found himself recalingl the precise moment when he had broke the news of the baby to his mother.

_"So what's the big news?" Narcissa asked to the carefully placid expression across his face, settling down into the seat across from him at the restaurant they met at. She lifted her brows and lips in a confused smile, and in an effort to engage his attention. "Sorry I'm late. Your father and I had business to attend to."_

_All at once he started to life with a sharp inhale. "Mom, don't freak out, okay?" he said, not at all evading her suspicion. Hours of careful thought had built this moment, thinking wordlessly how to say the news, how best to tell her for the perfect reaction, and he was afraid he was failing miserably._

_Over time Narcissa had learned not to interrupt this process, not to scare him away like a frightened moth when he allowed her in, and she nodded to him as he finally looked to her, ready to speak._

_"It's gonna be a boy."_

_One moment, two, and the following silence was punctured with a gasp of air as Narcissa had stared at the nonchalance that so terribly hid his enthusiasm, her hands refusing to sit still until they clasped underneath her chin. "Hermione's pregnant? You two are having a baby? A boy?" The words tumbled from his mother's mouth at an astounding speed and a bright smile reached her lips and she breathed out, undeniably happy. Only then did his mask find fault, cracking as her smile infected him and he chuckled in response._

_"Yeah."_

* * *

><p>Draco was whizzing things about with his wand, putting books back onto shelves or putting away clothes, and it distracted Hermione from the pressure in her belly, the swelling she had grown accustomed to. She pressed her hands against the blanket she was snuggled under. "My stomach feels strange," she muttered aloud.<p>

Draco was still flicking his wand through the air and was now summoning a sandwich over to himself. He chimed in with a very unhelpful, "Maybe it's because you're pregnant, I dunno, just a wild guess." The words were laced with sarcasm and dryness that she hardly appreciated but had oddly grown fond of.

"Why are you toying around with your wand, Draco? You know, you have arms and legs you can do all these things by yourself." She snapped back.

Vaguely annoyed, he huffed a scoff and opened his mouth for a tireless tirade to march across his tongue and into the open air, "I'm not a muggle, I have a wand to do these things for me and if you—" The words stopped short and he looked over at her, concern flickering in his gaze. His steady gray eyes followed her movements when she winced as she sat up straight in bed, hands curled across her belly and an expression of uncertainty across her brow.

"Hermione?" he swiftly moved to her side, a sudden fright catching his limbs with a sinking dread, thousands of explanations for her actions swirling in a tempest of worry.

Yet, despite his worrying, instead of pain, awe went across her face and she looked up at him with wide brown eyes. "Draco, I-" Her voice had become an odd mix of fascination and shock as she snatches one of his hands and placed it upon her stomach. "I think—Draco, I think Scorpius is kicking."

Eyes widening, he stammered startled words of surprise before he remembered that he was supposed to be feelings for his son's foot. Draco could feel the kick and Hermione could too, she smiled at him widely and he found himself returning an even brighter one.

* * *

><p>"No, she's fine. Don't worry." Draco said into the phone. On the other end of the line was Harry, Ginny and Ron. Draco was still trying to get used to the idea of using a phone, even if it was Hermione's, the whole idea just seemed lost on him.<p>

Hermione watched carefully as he spoke to them, his voice was friendly enough yet it still held it's Malfoy edge. She was seated on the couch, hand resting on her swollen belly.

"You'll come visit soon enough, though, right?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, we will." Draco replied, rolling his eyes.

As they said their goodbyes, she found herself caught in a web of thoughts, staring at him, he seemed almost fatherly. He came over to her and frowned at her expression.

"What are you smiling at?" He questioned with a scowl.

"You."

He rolled his eyes again but not without affection and planted a kiss on her forehead.

For a moment she felt like she was lost in a daydream, she was sitting here in their house as _Draco Malfoy_ kissed her forehead, if this were a year ago she would have sent herself to St. Mungo's for thinking such thoughts.

Within reality, Hermione remembered that this was no dream. She really was here with Malfoy, pregnant with his son, and ready to re-marry him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>An: Ahhh, i'm so sorry again that I couldn't update sooner. I had to write a term paper, an essay and do a project. It was just so hectic . I should be able to update sooner as I am on break right now and I don't have too much to do.**_


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